The Deal
by Erythros
Summary: No attractions. The Head Boy and Girl strike up a deal they find that they can not follow after all. DHr
1. Chapter One

**The Deal**

* * *

****

It was on the very first day of school that Hermione Granger's life crumbled into countless pieces. She was this year's Head Girl, and for this reason was she ecstatic to begin her last school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All the joy ebbed away, though, when she had found out that to accompany her was the most horridly disagreeable person on the planet – none other than Draco Malfoy, the living entity of Slytherin-ness and dastardly menace.

She would have tolerated him being Head Boy and all, but when she had learned that Heads as a century-old tradition shared a Common Room with each other, she drew the line.

"I will positively _not_ share a Common Room with _HIM_, professor!" Hermione shrieked, standing up so quickly from her seat that it almost toppled over. Her chest rose constantly, her breathing getting ragged and heavy with anger.

"This is absolutely preposterous, Professor!" Draco Malfoy stood up as well. "Wait until this gets to –"

"Your father, Mister Malfoy," Professor McGonagall spoke calmly, taking off her spectacles and wiping the lenses carefully, "knows of this arrangement already. There is absolutely nothing he can do; as you know, this has been carried out for years."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no sound other than a helpless squeal came out. This could _not_ be happening; existing within the same walls of Hogwarts with the little git was enough to drive her and her other friends crazy, but to actually _live with him? _For a whole year?

She looked heavenwards and cursed the mighty gods of the wizarding world. They might have just struck her dead with a lightning bolt. _That_ would have been much more comforting than having to be with the ferret all year round.

To think that the first person she'd have to see every morning would be Malfoy. The thought gave her a shudder.

"Think of it as… good publicity," the Transfiguration teacher said lightly, "You'll be sure to promote House unity in school."

_Good publicity? _Draco thought in repulsion. He had actually once respected this teacher before, but that certain respect had faded away the moment she announced the arrangement of the living quarters.

He sat back down in defeat, bringing a hand to his face and scowling. He looked sideways at the Gryffindor beside him and gritted his teeth in contempt. A bloody Gryffindor, Know-it-All, Mudblood and Potter-follower all rolled into one girl.

"Of all the bloody people…" he muttered angrily, afterwards sighing in resignation.

The subject of his anger cast him a glare.

"Merlin, I can't believe I'm going to get stuck with _you _all year round…" he snapped. With an afterthought he added, "Mudblood."

Her eyes bulged out in fury and she replied with an equal amount of dislike, "_I'm _the unlucky one – I'm going to have to live with – with a sneaky, despicable, evil, malicious Slytherin! And of all the people in your lot, it had to be _you."_

"Why you little – "

"What are you going to do, ferret? _Bounce_?"

"Wench."

"Prat!"

"You little witch –"

"Why thank you for noticing – "

"That is ENOUGH from the two of you." McGonagall mediated between the two adolescents who were now egging towards each other in verbal battle. She sighed exhaustedly, and cleared her throat. "You will _share_ your living quarters as planned, you will _learn_ to tolerate if not _befriend_ each other, and you will _give_ a shining example to all of Hogwarts' students. Am I understood?"

"But do you see how we cannot at _all_ be at peace when we're in the same room, professor?"

"Miss Granger –"

"Professor, just imagine what tragedy could happen to _me_ when –"

"For once I agree with the Mudblood – "

"Stop it –"

"Professor – "

"Professor –"

"_No buts from either of you_. Any more complaints and I will be forced to take off points from Gryffindor and Slytherin. After the Welcoming dinner, proceed to your quarters at the west wing of the fifth floor. There will be a portrait of an old man there so be sure to give your password to him. Understood?"

Both nodded mutely, albeit still glaring at each other. Completely satisfied that nothing serious would occur any longer, McGonagall smiled primly and coughed. "Good. See you at dinner." And she stood up and left, her scarlet robes swishing behind her.

No sooner had Professor McGonagall gone from her office did Draco and Hermione begin to bicker once again.

"You'd better not make my life a living hell, Malfoy," Hermione snarled, "I intend to make my last year memorable."

He smirked in reply. "Why, Granger, I live for the sole purpose to do just that – to torment you and Potter and Weasley."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, what a _glorious_ life you must have, Malfoy," she noted sarcastically. She stood up to go. "Since I'll be seeing you too much this year to last me an entire lifetime, I'll be off to spend my remaining time free of _you._"

And with that, she left him dumbfounded, and if it were possible, so much angrier than he already was. He gripped on the ledges of his chair, filled with frustration for the little witch.

Good gods, he thought angrily, this year would _definitely_ be torture.

* * *

The minute she told the boys the news, Ron choked on the food in his mouth. "WHAT?" he bellowed, obviously enraged. Some of the bits flew out of his mouth that Harry and Hermione drew disgusted looks at their red-haired best friend.

"Honestly, Ronald, have you no manners at all?" she said, handing him a tissue.

He grabbed it, wiped around his mouth, and resumed to yelling in shock. "What if that evil bloke _kills_ you in the middle of the night? What if he _attacks_ you? Oh, _think_ of all the possibilities – "

Harry shook his head. "Let me guess," he said, turning to Hermione, "You can't do anything to escape from this. _I _can't do anything to get you out of this." He paused, looked over at the Slytherin table and nodded his head to the blonde boy sitting with his back to them. "And I'm pretty sure _he_ can't do anything to get himself out of this either."

"Exactly." Hermione sighed in resignation. "It's an age old tradition that no one simply can't break."

Ron slammed his fist on the table. "Well then _we'll_ break it this year, along with Malfoy's neck – "

"Ron, I do not intend to do that, as tempting as it may sound," Hermione replied sternly, "Besides, as Professor McGonagall said, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor working side by side together might possibly promote unity throughout the Houses. I suppose I can endure one whole year of Malfoy with that vision in mind."

She ate a spoonful of mashed potatoes and chewed slowly, her eyes gradually averting their gaze towards the Slytherin table. Fingering her Head Girl Badge absent-mindedly, she knew that she could work her way through the year, even if it meant having to live in close distance with Draco Malfoy. _House unity, house unity, house unity, _she repeated the words monotonously in her mind. _All for house unity and the good relations of all magical folk in the world. Yes, I can live with that. I can…_

And just when she was almost comfortable with the idea of sharing living quarters, Malfoy turned his head, glanced at her and sneered. As quickly as it had unbelievably come, all optimism in the idea ebbed away and was once again replaced with pure spite for him.

* * *

"What kind of password was 'prolifickus'?"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy."

"It's not even a word – and to think everyone thought you were intelligent."

"Well, the sooner we decided on a password, the sooner I'd be in bed and at least eight hours free from your very essence, Malfoy."

They walked through the portrait hole, still bickering away as though they were continuing the earlier exchange of taunts in McGonagall's office. Draco walked behind her, studying her back as they continued to talk – or rather, squabble. Granger's hair was still as bushy as ever, despite the fact that it lost its broom-ish appearance and was replaced with springy curls. She grew tall, definitely, and there was something completely amiss in her look this year…

What was it? He couldn't actually tell. It was at the tip of his tongue, but he could not figure it out.

Draco watched as she glanced at him over her shoulder, wearing an annoyed look.

Then he got it.

She looked…

_Nice? _

He shuddered at this sudden thought and felt sickened that the little bushy-haired, bucktoothed girl he first met when he was eleven turned into this _nice-looking _adolescent in front of him.

No.

She was not at all nice-looking. In fact, she was far from that description!

"Ugh," he muttered, making a face in the darkness.

"What did you say?"

But before he could answer, they had reached the end of the little tunnel and had arrived at their destination.

Their common room.

It was a beautiful room, what with the cozy colors neither crimson nor green but instead a comfortable beige, and the plush sofas in the middle. Tan carpets lined the floor, and a fire was burning in the fireplace. There were two huge windows overlooking the snowcapped mountains in the distance and the walls were filled with portraits…

Portraits of the past Heads.

"Shall we set some house rules, Granger?" Draco flopped on one of the couches and stretched out his legs on the low table.

Hermione stared at him and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What did you have in mind?"

"Sit." He ordered her like he would a house elf and she glared at him, appalled at his annoyingly frustrating superiority complex. He was unbelievable, and she crossed her arms in irritation.

"I'd rather stand, thanks."

"Alright then, if you wish," he shrugged. He reached inside his robe pockets and fished out a folded piece of parchment. Glancing at her with his infamous smirk, he cleared his throat, unfolded the parchment and began to read.

"Number one, it is imperative that you and I mind each other's business."

"Fair enough."

"Unless of course it concerns either of us."

"Alright then."

"Two, you will not have access to my room and to my things."

"To each his own."

"But if and when it is necessary, I will have access to _yours._"

"WHAT?"

"_If_ and _when_, that's what I said –"

"There is _no if and when_, Malfoy! Stick to your own room and if I see you in _my_ room you will consider yourself _murdered_."

"Oh, alright then. Three, as you may have noticed, there is only one bathroom. I'd like for it to be gleaming clean when I use it. To maintain this state, I suggest you only use it in a limited number of occasions – "

"I do have my wand in my pocket, Malfoy, so you'd better make some reasonable house rules. Fifty percent of our quarters is mine, too."

"Fine then! We'll just have to settle that certain rule later. Moving on to number four, I'm a very organized person so the Common Room better not be in a mess. Don't leave your stuff about."

"Alright."

"And finally number five, Potty and Weasel shouldn't be lingering about in our Room. Don't you dare tell them that ugly password, Granger."

Hermione snorted. "And I take it your little friends won't be here too?"

"Naturally." Malfoy threw the parchment into the fire and lay back on the couch. "That's it then. If we abide by those rules, we might be able to coexist quietly the whole year."

Hermione took the armchair in front of him and crossed her legs. "I do have two rules I'd like to add to that list, Malfoy."

"What is it then?"

Hermione smirked. "You'd better not let your week-to-week girlfriends in here, prat," she said, "Or else I'll be forced to let Harry and Ron to come here in return."

Draco glared at her.

"You can do your snogging somewhere else," she cheerfully said, "But if I see you doing just that in our Room I will have to curse you to oblivion. Understood?"

"What's the other one then?"

She paused thoughtfully. "No attractions."

At this he almost fell on the floor. "As if that will ever happen!" He laughed excessively. "I mean _I_ can accept _you_ to like _me_, but to have _me_ like _you_? That's rich!"

"I'm just thinking of the possibilities, Malfoy." She extended her hand out. "I'll abide by your rules except for two and three, and you shall abide by mine."

Silence lingered in the air, all except for the crackling of the fire. By this time, Draco's laughs were reduced to silent chuckles; he stared at her hand and Hermione watched as his face contorted into an unreadable expression.

Of course, the moment it finally settled on his usual smirk, he surprised her by shaking her hand with his.

"You've got yourself a deal, Granger."

* * *


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

It was a lovely autumn morning, the start of the second day of school. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a pleasant shade of blue, hummingbirds were melodiously chirping in tune, and everything was at calm…

Until the shrieks of the newly appointed Head Girl destroyed the beautiful solitude of it all.

Dripping wet from head to toe as she had just come out of the shower, Hermione wore nothing but a fluffy scarlet towel around her body and a very flushed and outraged look when she turned around just in time to see the bathroom door wide open.

"MALFOY!" she yelped, jumping at his sudden appearance by the doorway of their private bathroom. "YOU PRAT, YOU PERVERT, YOU –"

Draco did not even attempt to look apologetic and embarrassed. He casually leaned on the frame of the door, wearing an enthused sneer as his partner rambled on in a loud voice. He was about to throw her a morning tease to cut her off (one thought in particular was how amazingly _seductive_ she looked just now, wearing nothing but that towel of hers) but before he could open his mouth, a various number of toiletries were tossed violently at his direction.

First came the toothbrush, then a hand towel, then an even _bigger_ bath towel, and then when he saw her evidently trying to pick up a flower vase from the sink area, he jumped back with his hands in defense.

"Never knew you were a morning person, Granger," he said hurriedly, still with that smug grin plastered on his face, closing the door behind him.

From inside Hermione could still hear him snickering and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. She grabbed the towel at hand and screamed into it, as it was popular belief that it would relieve stress and frustration. If _this_ was what every single morning would hold for her whole nine months, she would not be surprised if she'd look more stressed this year. Imagine – seeing the face of that ferret first every day!

She groaned helplessly. The day could not have started worse… How she fervently wished that it would get better.

* * *

But sure enough, it hadn't. 

As expected, the odds were against her. It was a relief not to see Malfoy after the bathroom incident that morning – the last time she took sight of the Slytherin had involved him still being in his white shirt and plaid green boxers and rushing into the bathroom with his uniform in his arms – and she thought that that would be the end of it until after dinner.

However, she had found out that he was already in _five_ of her classes – five! – and in each one, they were appointed to sit beside each other and were cast as partners for the whole semester. "House unity, my arse," she grumbled, angrily tugging at her bag, "This is a conspiracy against _me_!"

No one ever _said_ that the job description for Head Girl meant having to be around her male counterpart every single moment. Honestly, they should have had a _brochure_ about this saying something about living together in the same quarters, having to share the same bathroom, having to be in almost every damn class, being partners in everything… If this was what it would have been, then she at all would have turned the position down.

She entered the Great Hall in an immensely bad mood and sulked towards the Gryffindor table. No sooner had she set her bag down beside her, her least favorite person tapped her on the shoulder.

"What now?" she gritted between her teeth, resisting the urge to 'accidentally' on purpose smack her bag (which, notably, was filled with her thick Transfiguration book) against his face.

Malfoy smirked, and his Head Boy badge gleamed as if in agreement. "Meeting with the Prefects after classes."

"_I know that_ – you don't have to tell me."

"I knew that," he replied, crossing his arms together. "I was just curious about your classes later after lunch?" He gave her a meaningful look, his eyes shining rather playfully.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, wondering what that look could have meant… was he planning on something?

And _then_ she figured it out.

"_Ohhhhhhhh_ no." Hermione brought her hands to her face in sheer disbelief. "Do _not_ tell me you're having Ancient Runes and Advanced Arithmancy later too! That would make it _seven_ classes!"

He retorted with a mock gasp. "What a coincidence, Granger! It seems we'll be stuck with each other the rest of the year!" He laughed rather nastily, and ran a hand through his hair. "You should really consider yourself quite fortunate, having to be in the company of… well, _me_."

She shot daggers at him. "I would rather be in the company of a Blast-Ended Skrewt, Malfoy."

"Don't get angry at _me_. It's not like I purposely _arranged_ our classes –"

"I have enough of you in the morning _and_ in the night – must I endure you the rest of the time too?"

"Go blame McGonagall – you'll be doing _me_ a favor too –"

"It's a conspiracy, this is! _Gah_, I hate it –"

"I hate _you_ –"

"Oh, shut up! You're just making things worse –"

Their bickers were cut off by the arrival of Harry and Ron. Malfoy looked at them in contempt and turned back to Hermione. "It seems that Potty and Weasel have come, so I'll be off now, Granger," he said, "Remember, Prefects' Meeting –"

"I _got_ that!"

Malfoy smirked, tossed her a smug glance over his shoulder and went back to his own table. Hermione snarled in utter exasperation and sat down.

"You alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, sitting across from her and Ron by his side. "You look… moody."

"Don't stress yourself out right away," Ron uttered, "It's only the second day back."

"Even if it did involve Malfoy."

She simply stared at the two boys. They simply did not understand. Hermione sighed, and began to chomp down the usually delectable meat pie of Hogwarts. Strangely enough, it tasted horrible at that moment.

* * *

"Never knew you could switch to a more serious mode, Malfoy," Hermione muttered as the two Heads made their way towards their dorms. "You were pretty impressive back at the meeting." 

Malfoy merely glanced at her. "Of course I can. How did you think I became Head Boy?"

She chose to ignore his comment. "You know, Malfoy," she said, "You're more tolerable that way. I'd like it if you'd stay like that all the time."

He snorted. "That's not happening anytime, Granger. I'm more fitting as an annoying prick on your side, don't you think?"

"I suppose you are." She rolled her eyes. "Prolifickus." They had reached the portrait of the old man, who, in reply to the password, smiled courteously and tipped his hat in approval.

The portrait swung open and one by one they climbed in. Upon reaching the end of the hole, Draco flopped down on his usual couch, took off his shoes and lay down. Hermione, on the other hand, took to one of the nearby study desks, sat down and laid her books on the desk. Opening the book to a page, she egged closer to the desk, crossed her legs, and, of course, began her study ritual.

Draco watched her from his position and raised his eyebrow. So the renowned Know-it-All Granger really _did_ spend most of her time studying. To think that it was only one of the first days of school! "Really, now, Granger," he called to her, "Wouldn't you just like to sit back and relax for a second? You've got yourself buried in that book! And you've only been reading it for five minutes!"

Hermione lazily looked at him over her shoulder. "Well, get used to it."

"Don't Potter and Weasley find it at all strange?"

"It's not strange at all; it's just that I find reading entirely fun."

"Well, I think you're obsessed with it. There's a certain extent to fun reading, you know."

Hermione frowned. "Leave me alone, why don't you?" she snapped. "Go get yourself busy and bug _off_. We have that Ancient Runes homework, don't we?"

Draco crossed his arms and smirked. "Ah, yes," he replied rather thoughtfully, "But have you forgotten that it's an assignment we're supposed to do as a _pair_?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but came out with nothing to say. Pursing her lips, she roughly slammed her book shut, grabbed her Runes map, parchment, ink and quill, and made her way to the coffee table near him. She set these things down and glared at him. "Well?" she asked tartly. "Get yourself down here and let's finish it."

Draco raised his eyebrows in amusement. Oh, how he relished at making her fume like that. It was entirely too cute. Hermione Granger may have possessed patience at everything else, but she was a completely different girl when it came to academics.

As much as he wanted to lie down a few minutes more, Draco dragged himself down on the carpeted floor and sat across her. Grabbing his materials from his bag which had lain forgotten under the table, Draco looked at her in anticipation.

"We'll divide this map so that we can work more quickly," Hermione explained a-matter-of-factly, drawing out the divisions with her finger. "You do this half and I'll do this half. Hopefully we can finish it by tonight."

With a nod, Draco dipped his quill into the ink. Hermione gave him a small smile, and began with her work.

* * *

The fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows in the farther ends of the Common Room. It was a quarter 'til midnight, and both students, having worked on the rune translations without pause for more than three hours, leaned back, defeated, sighing in resignation. Hermione looked over her translations and with triumph dancing brightly in her brown eyes, she exclaimed, "Finally! Done!" 

Like a composer finished with his composition, she brought it to her lips and kissed it proudly.

Draco watched her, amused at her funny outburst. "Well, I'm done too." He replied coolly and nonchalantly, despite the fact that inwardly, he was rather feeling proud that he too was done with his share of the work. The runes which their professor gave, he had to remember, were challenging, and it was just right that he felt proud that he was able to translate it in a matter of hours. He peered at her parchment. "Want to switch?"

Hermione blinked in curiosity. "Why?"

"To make sure no mistakes were made in the translations, of course," he replied, holding out his parchment to her. "I'd like to perfect this, seeing as we worked on it rather determinedly through the course of the night."

She considered for a second; a second later, she took his and he took hers and both were once again poring over their chart of runes. After what seemed to be twenty minutes, Hermione handed his back to him. She coughed. "Well, Malfoy – I have to admit – yours was flawless. It was well done, I'd say," she muttered awkwardly. "I mean – well, you know what I mean."

Draco smirked. Obviously, this girl was not used to having an intellectual equal who could carry out an assignment perfectly. _Then again, _Draco mused, _Potty and Weasel aren't exactly smart. _Handing hers back to Hermione, he retorted, "I'd say the same to you, Granger. You'd better be flattered that _I_ complimented you. I don't usually do so, so _don't_ get used to it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged. Yawning, she pulled herself up and stretched. "It's strange that I don't feel sleepy yet." She checked the small clock on top of their mantelpiece (which read exactly 12:03 am) and glanced down at him. "Are you hungry?" She placed a hand on her stomach.

Draco looked up at her, surprised. Was it normal for a Gryffindor to ask such a simple question to a Slytherin? She stated hers as if she had asked him that for years. Strangely, to him it felt rather… _normal_? He shrugged in reply, not knowing what to answer.

"Hold on." Hermione scampered to her room, closing the door behind her. From where he sat, Draco could hear her rummaging through her trunk, obviously trying to look for something buried deep underneath. He drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for whatever it was she was going to bring, and finally, she emerged from her room, holding a small white cardboard box in her hands.

Hermione sat once again in her place, setting the box down in between them. She opened it to reveal a dozen chocolate chip cookies. "My mum packs me these cookies every time I leave for Hogwarts," she explained, "I usually share it with Ron and Harry, but I figured that we deserve it right now. Midnight snack, you know." She smiled sweetly, and for a split moment, Draco almost felt something _warm _spread throughout his body. Was he touched at her generous notion? It was an awfully strange feeling which was completely alien to him. Admittedly, though, it was…_nice_.

She handed him a cookie as she took one herself. "They're sugarfree, though," she mumbled sheepishly, biting into the cookie, "You see, my parents are dentists."

"They're what?" Draco took it and nibbled. It was delicious. He'd bet around five galleons that these were homemade.

"Muggles who take care of teeth," she replied. She finished a cookie and grinned. "So, how are they?"

"Who?"

"The cookies, you dolt." She took another one.

He thought for a moment. "Although I've had better," he pondered, "These are exceptionally good, coming from Muggles."

She beamed. "Of course, my mum made them."

"Your mother?"

"Yes. Why?"

He looked down and took another cookie to examine it. _His_ mother had never cooked or baked anything in her life. After all, she was of pure wizarding heritage, deserving the best and only the best – which meant that she probably had three house elves serving her alone throughout her life. Thus, she had no need to cook for herself. What would their household be like if Narcissa Malfoy took matters to her own hands?

"My mother never cooks," he mumbled, and he realized that his voice had gone low and miserable. Becoming aware that this was not at all Draco Malfoy-like, he coughed and took on his usual proud smirk. "But we do get the best meals there are; we have a world-class wizarding chef in our very own kitchen."

Hermione snorted. "Right, Malfoy. No need to gloat about your food; you gloat enough about yourself already." She offered him another cookie. "Another one?"

"It's strange – how could something free of sugar still be _sweet_?"

She laughed as he took a bite of the cookie.

As the night wore on and as the fire crackled in the fireplace of the Common Room, the two heads chattered on into the wee hours of early morning, forgetting that they hated each other; on they blabbered, as if they had done so every night.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright, I hope it was long enough. Hahaha! 2,537+ words – that's a record for me! Hope you enjoyed it… And on I go to continue my other fics. Hope you review! Thanks to all those who reviewed! 


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

In the course of the next few days, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had established an unspoken schedule, to which they followed with extreme observance. Six to six thirty in the morning would be the Head Girl's given time in the bathroom, and the following thirty minutes would be for the Head Boy. Right after that, at exactly seven a.m. they would remember to tidy up the Common Room (as they were amazingly meticulous and organized people), then at seven fifteen, they would grab their bags and make their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Along the way, they would hardly speak, except for the usual things - such as asking if they had completed the assignments they were given as a pair.

Throughout the day, they would not talk, unless they were in the same class and partnered up to complete a task. Even the phrases they exchanged, however, were usually short-lived. Hermione would stick by Harry and Ron, and Draco remained to be always flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

In the evenings, they would usually meet up in their cozy Common Room; it would always be Hermione who would arrive first and then a few minutes later, Draco would follow and find her sitting on the carpeted floor by the coffee table in front of the fire, her school things already strewn about. Every evening, he would sit a foot away from her and finish his own work. Ever since their first shared study session, they had taken the habit of sharing a snack and munching on them in the course of their assignments.

It was a schedule the two Heads lived by without failure.

**&&&&&&&&**

It was about two weeks into school. The bell rang to signal that the first lesson would be about to start and Draco and Hermione, both having Arithmancy first, walked side by side to their classroom, discussing the test they were going to have.

"Do you think the test is going to be hard, Malfoy?" Hermione asked anxiously, pulling out a relatively huge number chart from her book-jammed bag. "I mean, knowing the professor, it might be – "

Draco simply glanced at her lazily. "Relax, Granger," he replied, wrenching the chart away from her and folding it up, "His previous tests weren't that bad at all. Didn't you perfect _all_ of them?"

"Always be prepared for the worse –"

"It's just a measly quiz on one part of the chart, Granger! I'm pretty sure you practically memorized the whole thing anyway, so what's there to worry about for you?"

She shot him a nasty look and grabbed her chart back from him. Draco rolled his eyes. "You're certainly in a lovely mood today," he drawled with sarcasm. "Anyway, you go ahead; I'm going to the bathroom first."

With a smug smile, he disappeared round the corner as Hermione continued on. Reaching the Arithmancy classroom, she was not surprised to find it in the presence of their professor; after all, the students had found out that he usually came by late – the earliest Professor Vector had come was around fifteen minutes after the bell supposedly rang. Because of this, the room was still a bit empty; there were only a number of them who had come in time.

Sitting in her usual place and placing a bag on a seat next to hers to save for her partner, Hermione unrolled the chart and resumed on reviewing for their quiz. No sooner had she started, however, than someone interrupted her studying.

"Hermione Granger," the voice said in greeting. It was a boy, and Hermione looked up from her chart and was faced indeed by a boy she hardly spoke to ever since she had come to Hogwarts.

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley, the same Hufflepuff Muggleborn wizard who was one of those during the second year basilisk calamity who got attacked and one of the members of Dumbledore's Army back during their fifth year. Hermione had not given much attention to the boy since they were fifteen and even then, she was not at all particularly interested in him, and now, as he stood before her grinning, her cheeks got flustered as she smiled back.

Apparently, Justin had suddenly gone through a lot of physical changes – the last time she remembered, he once had plump cheeks, a noticeable nose that somehow jutted out from his face quite nastily and short, dark clean-cut hair. Now, though, she realized that he had grown taller… much taller than Ron, and his eyes, though brown as hers, were unbelievably light and beautiful. And when had his hair become such an unruly mess? It was unruly, yes, but fitted quite nicely with him, just like Harry's fitted him. His nose seemed to look better on him now, even. And the way he smiled! _Typical boy-next-door_, she thought with approval.

"Justin," she replied, feeling her cheeks turn red as he took a seat beside her. She then realized that she must have not noticed that he was also in this class until now. "I didn't notice that you were taking this class too." She pointed out lamely. Then again, she thought disdainfully, even if the teacher had always announced the names of the pairs, she was always too busy bickering with Malfoy.

Justin laughed goodheartedly. "How's the Head Girl thing?"

"Oh, manageable, surprisingly."

"Isn't that Malfoy bloke your partner?"

"Yes, unfortunately." She frowned. "You wouldn't know how _lucky_ I am to have him as my partner in every class that we're together."

"Too bad that had to happen to you," he replied. He grinned lightly. "I was hoping to have you as my partner for Arithmancy."

Her heart skipped a beat and she flushed even more. The second bell rang and there was still no sign of the teacher or Draco Malfoy. For the first time, Hermione wished that it would take them longer to arrive.

"Isn't it always strange that Professor Vector's never on time?" Justin uttered, "Strange thing to happen for a professor. Think of the time we waste while waiting for him!"

"I _know_!" Hermione was profusely shocked to find another student wishing that they could make use of the precious time they lost to learn more. On a luckier note, that student was a good-looking boy, who seemed to _like_ her. She blushed as she found him grinning wider at her.

"I'm not usually like this at all with my other classes," he explained, twiddling his thumbs together, "It's just that Arithmancy's my best subject. I was feeling pretty brilliant when I managed to scrape good enough OWLs to get to Advanced Arithmancy. But then again you do excellently in everything…"

She flushed even more. "Oh, no – it's just that – well, I – ," she stammered sheepishly, waving her hands in the air. Not finding the right words to reply with, Justin laughed amusedly.

"Listen," he began after his laughter subsided, "I was thinking – "

The bell rang and sadly (on the part of Hermione), Draco walked in nonchalantly with a smug stride and found his way beside the Head Girl. Before he dropped into his seat, however, he glanced down at Hermione and then at Justin, whom he sneered at. Justin, scowling at the Head Boy, stood up, looked at Hermione with a smile and said, "I'll talk to you next time?"

Hermione nodded and Justin walked back to his usual seat at the far end of the room. Turning back rightly, she gave the Head Boy a cross stare and went back to her chart.

"Well, someone's made a new friend," Draco snickered, crossing his arms together and glancing at his partner.

Hermione merely glowered at him.

"As sickening as it is to me, that dolt seemed to be interested in you."

At this her face, which had gone back to normal, turned beet red.

He snickered even more. "And I'm presuming that the feeling is mutual?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," she snapped. This was _exactly_ why life with Malfoy was almost near to impossible. He was always there to antagonize her and her friends and it seemed as if he enjoyed nothing more than to do just that

Fortunately enough, Professor Vector finally came, and to Hermione's delight, no sneers escaped the foul lips of Draco Malfoy for an hour and a half.

**&&&&&&&&**

The bell rang for lunch, and Hermione, Harry and Ron, coming from the Greenhouses for Herbology, rushed back to the Great Hall, smelling like dragon fertilizer. They occupied their usual seats by the Gryffindor table and Ron, having always the best appetite among them, filled his plate with mashed potatoes and Salisbury steak.

"What classes do you have afterwards?" Hermione asked Harry. She grabbed the basket filled with loaves, took one, and passed it on to her two friends.

"Divination," he replied, "And then we have History of Magic together, don't we?"

She nodded as she took a sip from her goblet.

"It's Wednesday today," Ron suddenly muttered, the skin around his mouth cluttered with food bits. He suddenly looked thoughtful. "Hey, don't we have a Hogsmeade trip this weekend?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Today's the sixteenth," he pointed out smartly, as he began to count off the dates with his fingers, "And Saturday's the nineteenth…"

Hermione looked confused. "So…?"

Harry, however, seemed to catch his friend's drift. His emerald eyes lit up as he stared at Hermione. "It's your birthday this Saturday!"

_Oh. _Hermione had forgotten that her birthday was this week. She'd been too busy with school – _and Malfoy, _she thought disdainfully – that she had not remembered that she would be seventeen in a matter of days. Not that she was at all excited. Remembering her age meant being reminded that this was her last birthday within the walls of her treasured school, and that next year, she would no longer be a student of Hogwarts, but instead a fully-fledged witch who was about to take on the wizarding world.

It was a thoughtful thing that for once, her two best friends – who tended to usually forget her birthday seeing as they were boys – had not failed to remind her so this year. For the past few years, they had usually overlooked it, seeing as they were always too loaded with work and the fact that the Darkest wizard of all time was abound, ready to strike at any time. Thankfully, he had been defeated last year by her dearest friend Harry, who looked a great deal happier now that there would be no more threats against his life and the future of magic.

Thinking back about her birthday, she glanced at them and grinned. "I'll treat you guys to Madam Rosmerta's then?"

At these words, Harry and Ron lit up and Hermione, listening to them as they flattered her and thanked her, rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys."

**&&&&&&&&**

Friday night came; it was Hermione and Draco's turn to patrol the castle grounds by the lake. Hermione, all prepared with her wand and badge, looked positively flustered and angry when she emerged from their Common Room. Draco was nowhere to be found.

She let out a frustrated sound as she stomped out of the Great Hall. He wasn't even _anywhere_ near the Slytherin table! It was already half-past seven and all throughout dinner time, he had not arrived.

"That _stupid_ prat!" she exclaimed, now going up the marble staircase of the Entrance Hall. "He _knows_ that we're supposed to be patrolling right now! Wait until I get my _hands_ on him – "

She continued on her infuriated rant against the Slytherin, whom Hermione now wanted to curse and hex and kick so badly. She went through the Halls, now abandoned and dark as these were the halls that were usually packed during schooldays, muttering on and on about how irresponsible the current Head Boy was.

_Lumos, _she muttered furiously, and the tip of her wand lit up dimly, at first, and then brightly seconds after. "I bet my grades that that _git's_ lurking somewhere, snogging some silly girl too stupid to fall for his bait – stupid Malfoy – thick, dim-witted, dense, evil, pervert, bastard – "

As she rounded the corner, she stopped abruptly, suddenly hearing disgusting noises of people _kissing_ rather… passionately. They were hidden in the shadows and Hermione made a face as she pointed her wand towards them. As she did so, the girl let out a horrified squeal that someone had found them out and the boy looked up to meet the Head Girl's eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes distastefully and muttered, "Well, speak of the devil. _Malfoy._"

Sure enough, it was indeed her partner, his slate eyes wide and annoyed that they were discovered – by Hermione Granger no less – his tie loosened, his hair disheveled as if hands ran through them too much, and his lips smudged with rouge lipstick.

"Granger!" he let out irritably, loosening his hold on the girl he had been snogging for an hour.

Hermione ignored him and stared instead at the girl. She was in Ravenclaw, obviously a year or two younger than them, her blonde hair as unkempt as Malfoy's, her robes scruffy and her green eyes looking frightened and vulnerable to what to do in the situation. Admittedly, she was a bit too petite – actually looking a bit mousy sometimes – and Hermione briefly wondered what Draco could have actually liked about this girl.

Without a wavering look, Hermione scowled at the two of them. "Malfoy," she said between her gritted teeth, "What the hell are you doing, _snogging a girl at this hour_? We _were supposed to be patrolling already!_ You're Head Boy, an example to be followed by the rest of Hogwarts, and here you are in the halls – _snogging_! How you got the position, I have no idea! You're supposed to be more responsible than this – take your title seriously, why don't you? And _you_ – " She suddenly turned towards the Ravenclaw girl, who jumped a bit, immensely startled and terrified of Hermione, "You should know better – for crying out loud, you're a _Ravenclaw_ – and they said your lot was _smart_ – trust me, there are _loads_ of other boys in this school worth snogging than this _git _–" she thrust her forefinger at Malfoy who let out an indignant sound – "I cannot believe this is happening! Ten points from Ravenclaw _and_ Slytherin – _yes_, I can _most_ certainly do that, Malfoy!"

Malfoy glared threateningly at her, but Hermione simply glared back, unnerved. Seeing as there was no use, he merely straightened up, took the girl by the hand and said, "You go ahead then, Granger, I have… _unfinished business_ to attend to."

He threw her an angry nod and while pulling the Ravenclaw by the wrist, disappeared round the corner once again. Left in the darkened hallway, Hermione let out a frustrated groan and turned on her heel to continue on her way down to the castle grounds.

**&&&&&&&&**

"Insufferable… ferret…stupid…" As she finished her rounds in Greenhouse One and Two, Hermione continued on muttering names and awful things about Draco Malfoy. She could not believe how completely careless and negligent that boy was – he acted as if he weren't the current Head Boy of Hogwarts! Hermione briefly wondered why Ernie MacMillan did not get the position, seeing as he was one of the most serious prefects in their year.

Stopping momentarily before the third greenhouse, Hermione gripped her wand even tighter and gulped rather uneasily. This was the renowned greenhouse which accommodated the most interesting and at the same time most treacherous plants in school, and even the seventh years now had only been here thrice in their whole seven years of stay at Hogwarts. So many fascinatingly dangerous plants lived here, and knowing full well that she was told not to come alone, she thought of her daft partner – immediately, she was fueled to do the job herself and without a second thought she pushed the screen door open and entered.

"Honestly, I hope that prick'll be told off by one of the teachers – _that'll_ show him – of all the – _ouch_!" Her angry tirade broke off, however, for she had managed to trip over an insignificantly small potted plant – Hermione took to the damp ground and massaged her toe. Fleetingly, she glanced at the plant she tripped on, noticing its petite fuchsia flowers and tiny leaves. Nothing to worry about, if it were someplace else…

But in seconds Hermione's eyes grew wide in horror and she fell back, grabbing her wand which lay a foot away from her and scampering to be on her feet again. "_Quiescent Blossoms_," she whispered hoarsely, knowing fully well the effects of this certain species of plants.

Within few moments, the flowers gradually curled open, letting out a soft, pinkish gas which enveloped Hermione completely; she felt drowsy all of a sudden and now fully panicked despite her groggy state, she staggered towards the exit of the greenhouse. Her eyelids were now attempting to close but she struggled to keep awake. It wasn't the fact that she would be unconscious for quite a time which frightened her – it was the fact that no one might find her here until morning, and upon waking, how would she explain why she was there in the first place when Professor Sprout might ask her?

But it was of no use – after each great effort of exiting the greenhouse, she felt her eyelids finally close and with a soft yawn, she fell…

She fell into a soft cloud which caught her just in time and she felt herself enveloped in its delicate wisps she could have mistaken for arms…

The cloud was carrying her off somewhere, and she didn't dare ask where – rather, she didn't care… She was tired and she wanted to sleep…

Did clouds often smell good? If not, this one certainly did; its scent was like expensive perfume and aftershower…

And now the cloud was calling her name vaguely… Clouds could talk? She did not know that… _But clouds aren't human or magical, _Hermione mumbled faintly. But this cloud persisted to do so, and each call seemed to get louder than the previous one. It told her to wake up, but she scowled and refused to… She still wanted to sleep…

Now it was slapping her gently on the cheek… Calling her by her last name… This was definitely an annoying cloud… Hermione told it to leave her and yet the slapping continued, and finally, scowling even more, she blearily opened her brown eyes just in time to see the cloud hovering above her head.

Or rather the person whom she thought was a cloud.

Malfoy.

His slate eyes, miraculously, were anxious and wide the first time her own brown eyes were fully open. His hand rested upon her cheek and giving a huge sigh of relief, he withdrew it – yet as fast as the look of anxiety came, a look of anger and frustration ran through his features. The next thing Hermione knew was that he was shouting.

"What in bloody hell were you _thinking_ going off _alone_ in Greenhouse Three like that?" he yelled, "Have you the sense to remember that you're not even _supposed to be alone_?"

Hermione sat upright and whilst her partner continued to bawl, she casually glanced around to realize that they were back in their cozy beige Common Room and that she was by the couch, wrapped in a scarlet blanket – done so, she deduced, by Malfoy. She looked right back at him kneeling down in front of her and listened to what he was saying.

"Gryffindors are _brave_, my arse – more like _idiotic_ –"

_That_ seemed to snap her back fully into reality. "Look who's talking, when you yourself were _snogging _endlessly tonight!" she snapped. "Don't call me _idiotic_, you reckless –"

"Don't you drag that into this – you should have had sense to skip that greenhouse if you were alone –"

"_Oh, please_ – you chose _snogging_ over your duties as Head Boy – you are _sick_ –"

"I knew this would happen – you getting yourself into trouble –"

"If you knew it would happen, THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST COME WITH ME!"

And _that_ seemed to silence Malfoy, who opened his mouth to retort but snapped it back shut as he was rendered speechless. As Hermione defiantly glared at him, a series of expressions played upon his face – first there was a look of perplexity, then a look of anger, then unbelievably a look of guilt (to which Hermione blinked to see if it were at all there), and finally, Draco managed to settle on a safe, irritated scowl.

"Well – it – you should still have considered not entering the greenhouse alone, Granger," he muttered lamely, his face reddening slightly, "It was a good thing I came in time to catch you there – good thing it was only _Quiescent Blossoms_…"

Hermione reddened too and chose to concentrate on fiddling with the blanket. "Yeah, well – thank you for bringing me back here."

There was a moment of silence in which only the crackling of fire was the only sound in the Common Room. Hermione suspected it was already half-past midnight, recalling that the effect of the Blossoms at the least lasted for two or three hours of unconsciousness.

"So you think I smell good, do you?"

Hermione's head shot up to see Draco smirking. She was now sure that her face was now a deep shade of red. She cursed silently, realizing that she must have voiced out her thoughts when she was half-conscious. "Shut up, Malfoy," she said tartly as he snickered and took a seat next to her.

Noticing that there was a smudge of lipstick still near his mouth, she leaned over and rubbed her finger to remove it. Malfoy blinked in surprise as she did so, looking quite unnerved. Realizing that this was not at all something she should have done in the first place, she grinned awkwardly and explained, "You still have evidence of your little tryst."

"Oh – right."

"Well, Malfoy, I think I'll retire to bed now – goodnight." She slowly got up, rolled the blanket in her arms and with one last look at him, she retreated to her bedroom, leaving Malfoy in the Common Room.

**&&&&&&&&**

Draco awoke a bit later than usual the next Saturday. He lingered in bed a little bit more, staring up at his green ceiling. Wasn't today the Head Girl's birthday? Not that he cared, but he knew this certain fact when he entered her room last night in search for her blanket. It was against their rules, technically, but it was an emergency, thus giving him automatic permission to enter her room – after all, she refused to wake up for two or three hours.

The moment he stepped inside, he had to admit that he loitered around for a bit, knowing that this might be his last time to be in Hermione's room. It was exactly like his, though, only hers were of Gryffindor colors – scarlet and gold – with an immense four poster bed, a wooden closet, an armchair situated by the vast window overlooking a grand view of the lake and the mountains in the distance, her floor covered in red carpet and books strewn about in a study desk similar to those in their Common Room.

Hers, of course, was a little more feminine, with pictures of the Golden Trio and her family by the little table beside her bed and he found himself walking towards it. He surveyed the pictures of the trio and realized that there were around seven of them displayed – it was chronological, starting from first year up to seventh year and in each one, Hermione was in between the two boys; in each one, as well, they all seemed to look immensely happy, and Draco felt bitter all of a sudden. He briefly wondered what it felt like to be part of them…

Forgetting the Trio's pictures, he then turned to the family photographs, and similarly, Hermione was sandwiched between her parents – like the ones with her friends, they looked happy as well. He never seemed to have seen such a happy family like hers, which was always smiling; he thought of his family's portraits and photographs and with an unpleasant feeling he realized that they never really looked quite happy, despite the smiles they showed with perfection. Ironically, he was sure that they were richer than the Grangers and Weasleys, yet, why did it seem like they were happier than his lot? He recalled the family picture of the Weasleys in _The Daily Prophet_ years back and they seemed to be genuinely joyful…

Remembering that he wasn't there to be at all reflective, he shook away his thoughts and proceeded on to go looking around. He approached her study desk, flipped through the pages of an opened book carelessly and noticed her small calendar which was turned over to the current month, September. There were dates marked in blue ink reminding of tests and projects, and one date which was encircled and marked with red ink. This was what had caught his eye, for he picked the calendar up and read September 19th – Hermione's birthday.

He furrowed his eyebrows, replaced the calendar on its spot, took the blanket and scurried out of the Head Girl's room.

Draco kicked back his silver sheets and stood up, stretched and went to the bathroom. Apparently, Hermione was not awake yet for the bathroom was not scented with her bath soaps and shampoos, fragrances which he grew accustomed to and liked. He bent down over the sink, turned on the faucet and washed his face; after which, he straightened up and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"You're a cute little wizard," it wheezed and he could have sworn that the mirror shook when it giggled shyly. Ignoring it, he ran a hand through his hair (which stuck in all sides), but like an attractive force, his gray eyes averted their attention to where Hermione had touched his face last night. Subconsciously, he brought a finger to that spot and felt his face grow hot. Her touch had left an unwanted indelible mark! Damn the fact that he loved it when she grazed her thumb to remove the lipstick – how he wished she didn't just do that! It was a good thing she failed to notice that his face was growing warm when she touched his face…

Another good splash of water cleared his mind, and not a minute sooner, he dried his face and rushed to the Common Room, just in time to see Hermione emerge from her room. She yawned and groggily glanced at him. "Good morning, Malfoy," she said as another yawn escaped her.

He replied with a good morning as well. She disappeared into the bathroom for half an hour as Draco kept himself busy with reading one of the books she left behind on the coffee table, and finally she came out, fully dressed wearing a black plaid skirt and a dark blue sweater. Her hair was hanging calmly behind her back and she sported a bag hanging over her shoulder. She nodded curtly to him and made for the Portrait Hole, but was stopped when Draco called to her.

"Have some sense to stay out of trouble, now won't you, Granger?" he smirked, watching as she looked at him over her shoulder and scowled. "I might not be there to catch you again!"

She rolled her eyes and left him alone in the Common Room without as much as a goodbye.

Draco frowned. He would bet ten Galleons that she was going to celebrate her seventeenth birthday with her little Gryffindor friends – it sickened him, he thought distastefully… But after a few more minutes of thinking of what they could be doing, he found himself actually _wishing_ that she invited _him_. He would have said 'no' right away because Slytherins did not _mingle_ with Gryffindors – it was a given – but still, he mused disappointedly, it was just courtesy to invite him, wasn't it? After all he and Granger went through for the last couple of weeks, he would have thought… He had even _saved_ her, hadn't he? Then again, they hadn't exactly _bonded_ properly. They couldn't say that they were now friends, exactly…

"To hell with her," he muttered furiously. Slamming the book shut and dropping it coldly on the couch, he left the Common Room and readied himself for the day.

**&&&&&&&&**

Right after breakfast, Draco, along with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, set off for the wizarding village nearby. It was a brisk autumn's day, perfect for wearing light jackets, which the four Slytherins did – the three boys wore black and Pansy wore a horrid shock pink – and once they had reached Hogsmeade, headed separately in different directions: Crabbe and Goyle made way to Honeydukes, and Pansy tagged along Draco who was proceeding to the Three Broomsticks.

"Oh, Draco, wouldn't you just rather go to Madam Puddifoot's?" Pansy asked in a revoltingly sweet tone as she clung onto his arm.

Draco looked straight on, his expression annoyed. "No," he replied flatly, carrying on with heavy, fast-paced strides that Pansy now had to walk faster to catch up with him, "If you'd like to go there, by all means, do so on your own."

She pouted. "You can't go there _alone_," she explained, "It's a place for couples – _you_ know that."

"Then look for someone else to go along with if you're dying to eat there."

She kept silent for a second for which Draco was grateful. "No," she replied then, "I'd rather spend my day with you."

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. Great gods, this woman was getting on his nerves. She was a leech, that was what she was, always clinging onto him wherever he went. He had had to endure her presence for six years, but thanks to his Head Boy badge, he was a tower and a common room away from her. Too bad, though, that she was around during classes and free time.

**&&&&&&&&**

When it was nearly lunchtime and Pansy had dragged him all around Hogsmeade to do her shopping, Draco suggested that they go in the Three Broomsticks to have a bite to eat. Pansy willingly obliged and had even hurried him so that they could come there at once for her feet hurt from all the walking they had done all morning.

When they reached the bar, however, Draco scowled as he saw who was inside.

It was indeed the Head Girl, surrounded by her friends, most of whom came from Gryffindor – to his disappointment there were even people from the other two Houses – and in front of her was a birthday cake with icing that read "Happy Birthday" and one candle which, when she blew, gave off little fireworks upon the table. She was laughing gratefully as the two boys she considered best friends each gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, followed by all the other people who each in turn gave presents and handshakes and friendly squeezes.

There was momentary feeling in him which stirred – he wished he could be a part of her little party.

"It's packed with Gryffindors, Draco," Pansy uttered disgustedly. She pulled his hand and tugged on him to leave. "Let's go someplace else."

Still watching her and her little friends, Draco hesitantly walked away with Pansy.

"Did you see that?" she exclaimed as they passed other shops, "I think they were celebrating that Mudblood's birthday – _sickening_, really – don't you think? Why _celebrate_ at all? She's not really worth all the trouble – hey, _ouch_ – Draco?"

She had given out a miffed squeal as she was now being dragged along by Draco inside a Parchment and Quills shop. Draco walked straight towards the counter, where an elderly wizard smiled politely and asked what he was looking for.

"I saw that white quill displayed in front of your shop," Draco said nonchalantly, "and I was wondering as to how much it is."

The man gave him the price – ten galleons, which was a bit too pricy for a quill, but as he explained, it was plucked from a rare bird – and Draco pulled out the exact amount of money from his pocket, rather caring little about the price. "Could you gift-wrap it please?" he inquired, to which the wizard obliged to do so with a smile, "Thanks."

As they waited for the quill, Pansy gave him a smile. "But I don't need a quill, Draco."

Draco looked at her flatly. "It's obviously not for you, Pansy."

Pansy looked purely taken aback. "Then for _who_?"

The man returned with the quill in an expensive-looking box and Draco thanked him, exiting the shop's premises as Pansy followed him out. Draco glanced at her and she looked positively resentful. He smirked.

"None of your business, Pans."

**&&&&&&&&**

It was after dinnertime that Hermione finally returned to their Common Room. Her hands were full of presents and little things she received from her friends – some were food, others were books – and she rested them upon the table by the fire, unaware that Draco was sitting on an armchair, watching her lazily.

"Well, you've certainly bought a lot of things today," he spoke, and Hermione wheeled around, surprised that he was there all along behind her. "Got your allowance?"

Hermione shook her head and took a seat on the couch. "Did you stay here all day?" she asked. "I didn't see you in Hogsmeade."

"Well – yes, I suppose I did. Wanted to bum around." He twiddled his hands and stared at her. "You came later than usual."

"Well…" Why was he being so chatty all of a sudden? Maybe he knew what today was… But that couldn't be it – he would have at least had the courtesy to greet her. Then again, he _was_ Draco Malfoy. "Do you know what today is?"

"No."

Alright then. So he didn't know. Then it was best not to tell him at all. It was around nine already anyway.

She nodded as if to understand and she looked at him and faked a yawn. "I'm tired, Malfoy, so I'll be going to bed now…" She gathered up the presents and headed for her room. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Granger." Was the last thing she heard before closing the door behind her. He was acting rather strange… He was being… _nice_.

She shook her head and placed her presents on her bed as she flopped down on it. She was immensely tired but glad with today's events. Pulling out a photograph from her bag, she looked at it and giggled. Someone had the idea of taking a picture of Harry and Ron kissing her on each side of her face. It was cute, because Ron's ears were beet red as he did so and Harry laughed when he pulled away and gave her a hug just at the same time as Hermione put an arm around on each of them. It was a much better present than anyone could give her – another photo to add to her bedside collection of memories.

When she stretched her arms on the bed, her left arm knocked something over the bed and she wondered what it could have been. Her gifts were all at the foot of the bed so it was strange to have something lying beside her… She lay on her chest and leaned over to the floor to grab whatever had fallen.

It was thoroughly a surprise when she pulled back up and took hold of a box tied with green string. She sat upright and furrowed her eyebrows in curiosity. There was a note attached to it and she opened it, only to find herself shocked and rendered speechless…

For it read:

_Happy Birthday, Granger._

_D. Malfoy_

The words had been simple and yet she was shocked – stunned. She opened the box quietly to find the most beautiful quill she had laid her eyes on. Purely white and long, it was accompanied with a bottle of green ink and she gaped at it admiringly, still quite bewildered that the most despicable boy in Hogwarts had given her a gift. A _birthday_ gift.

So he had known after all.

Without a second thought she stood up and rushed to open her bedroom door to see if he was still in the Common Room…only to find that it was empty and silent, with only the fire crackling happily in the fireplace.

**&&&&&&&&**

**AN:** Horribly long, isn't it? I was suddenly in the mood. Lol. Hope you review! I would love that! And thank you so so much to those who took the time to leave me comments!


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

**&&&&&&&&&**

"Why'd you give me a gift?"

He merely raised his eyebrow, taking one glance at her and then going back to _The Daily Prophet_. "Is this the way you show people your gratitude?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "When I find out the reason behind your unusual thoughtfulness, _then_ I'll thank you."

"So you don't trust me yet?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Even when we've been helping each other out, school-wise?"

"Yes."

"Even when I _kindly_ saved you from possible danger?"

"Yes."

Draco put down the newspaper, lifted his feet up on the table and crossed his arms, his expression amused and smug. "Are you implying that I did something to the quill which would benefit _me_ and possibly make _you_ perish in some malicious way?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. _Of course she did!_ His gift was undoubtedly a magnificent one, and she adored it the moment she took sight of it, but the thought that it came from Draco Malfoy no less was quite disturbing. What if he jinxed it to splatter indelible ink on her? What if, all of a sudden, it began to attack her while she was innocently completing an essay?

Draco smirked. "I'm guessing that, by the expression on your face, your answer would be yes?" He ran a hand through his un-gelled hair, and stared at her, his gray eyes flickering with enjoyment. "I can assure you that the quill is undeniably safe. As tempting as the thought of jinxing the quill for my pleasure is, I did not do anything to it to endanger your precious life, Granger."

"How can I be so sure of that?"

"Why don't you try _writing_ with it? That _is_ the purpose of a quill, is it not?"

But her initial question was still left unanswered. Hermione fidgeted on her seat and looked at him questioningly. "So why _did_ you give me a gift?" she asked. "I didn't even tell you it was my birthday!"

"Oh, I felt generous. You should consider yourself lucky, receiving a gift from a Malfoy."

"Surely," she replied dryly. But how in the world did he find out about her birthday anyway? Her mind reeled, remembering the previous nights – and then she recalled the blanket, that which he clearly took from her own bedroom, which meant that…

She gasped and glared at him angrily. "You went to my room!" she cried. "You went to my room without my consent and permission! You broke one house rule which, I might add, _you_ made!"

"Hey, it was an emergency!" Draco defended. "I suppose breaking our rules because of an emergency can be an exception!" But then a mischievous glint glimmered in his eyes afterwards and he grinned maliciously. "Of course, I do have to admit that I _lingered_ a bit longer than I should have…"

Hermione reddened with embarrassment and fury. What could he have possibly seen or _done_ in her room? Oh, she dearly hoped that he did not go burrowing through her closet or trunk. She'd make sure that she locked them in the future.

At that moment, Draco leaned in across the table over to her and smirked. "And might I add, you have _wonderful_ knickers, Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror and she yelped squeakily, gawking helplessly at the boy staring rather seriously at her. Only when he laughed a few seconds later, with him rolling on the couch in extreme hilarity did Hermione's death glare return to her face. Finding herself speechless, she contented herself with throwing pillows smack straight and hard at Draco's face.

"You – _smack _– are - _smack _– an evil – _smack_ – and perverted – prat – _smack_ – Malfoy!"

He laughed.

"You – _smack _– are – _smack_ – sick!"

Tears began to well in his eyes as he snickered.

"You are _impossible_!" And after what seemed to be a dozen pillows flying across the Common Room as the Head Girl attacked the Head Boy, Hermione stood up, huffing and panting with irritation and glaring at the still laughing Draco Malfoy. Apparently her pillow assault did not do anything to humble the big old prat. She patted her hair in an attempt to flatten it and adjusted her clothes. This was a complete waste of her time. "Well, I'm off for a spot of breakfast, Malfoy." She said curtly. "I'll see you later then."

Before she exited their Common Room through the Portrait Hole, she took out her wand, pointed it at her bedroom door and did a series of spells to guarantee that it was safely locked. She pocketed her wand and cheekily grinned at her partner. "Good morning, Malfoy." And with that, she left him still rolling around the sofa and clutching his stomach in laughter.

**&&&&&&&&**

That day, Hermione spent most of her free time with Harry and Ron either at the Gryffindor Common Room or at the castle grounds by the lake where they lounged lazily under a beech tree. Thankfully, there had not been much work for them to do for the following Monday, which allowed them to waste their time away on playing Exploding Snap or Wizard Chess, which the two boys were currently doing beside her as Hermione read yet another thick book on Advanced Transfiguration.

However, she could not seem to concentrate, for her mind aimlessly wandered on thoughts about Malfoy, who managed to keep her flaring in anger whenever she saw him that day; every time they crossed paths his lips seemed to curve into an amused smirk, his gray eyes twinkling with laughter from the earlier events of the day. Hermione snapped the book shut in frustration, her hands itching to wring the ferret's neck to satisfy her needs of torturing him.

He was definitely impossible, wasn't he? He was an enigma: his actions were completely impossible to predict. At times he was the usual prick on her side, always prepared to make her day a living hell; but then there were fleeting moments when she could totally relate to him and even laugh at something he said. Sometimes, he could act so… _pleasant_. Most of the time, however, he was irritating. He was an irksome mystery which she had no patience to put up with when in his exasperating mode.

Gathering her things, Hermione stood up from their spot and looked down at her two friends who were still busy playing their little games. "I'm off to the library," she said, tightening the scarf wrapped around her neck, "I'll meet you two for dinner later."

"Yes, alright." Came Ron's absent-minded retort.

"Bye, 'mione." Said Harry distractedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and set back to the castle on her own. Seeing as all peace of mind left her, she wondered what she'd do now; she could not seem to be able to concentrate on reading, now that her mind was poisoned with disagreeable thoughts of Draco Malfoy. Perhaps she could go back to their Common Room? Malfoy wouldn't be there, and he'd probably be back after dinner.

_Perhaps because he'd be too busy snogging yet another victim. _She was sickened with the thought. She had seen him going at it with different girls each week since sixth year, and it was too sad for her to say that she had been witness to it more than once. _Ugh. _

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione shook out of her reverie and looked ahead of her to see who had called her name.

And there was Justin, a vision in black and – Hermione thought it rather sad – yellow. She briefly wondered why members of a House loved their own colors so much, and that included her, realizing that she herself was wearing a crimson sweater.

"Justin," she breathed, her insides suddenly like mush. Was that a broad smile forming on her face and was her heart beating rather too quickly? She didn't care.

"I've been wanting to bump into you," he replied, the moment they were now right beside each other, making their way through the hallway. "Are you done with that Arithmancy paper Professor Vector asked us for? It's due around next week, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied. _Look at those bright brown eyes_. She wanted to drown in them. "Malfoy and I are almost halfway done, I think. How's yours going with Ernie?"

He shrugged. "Oh, fine, I suppose. Only, there's still something amiss with one portion of a point we have to discuss – the one about the magical number theory?"

"Oh, _that_ – yeah, that _was_ a tricky part. We haven't finished that part yet either."

Justin's eyes seemed to light up at her words. "Really? Then do you mind if we research on it together right now?"

Her smile widened at his offer. "Oh, alright. I'm not doing anything now, anyway."

"Brilliant! Let's meet at the library in ten minutes?"

"Okay."

And she watched as he sped off in another direction as she herself smiled to herself in glee.

_Finally._

A boy who was as close as being her intellectual equal.

Who happened to be handsome and charming in a boy-next-door kind of way.

Of course, Draco didn't think so. He did not like it one bit when he saw her and her Mudblood friend sharing a table together in the library. Good thing he was casually passing by or he would never have known!

He completely did _not_ approve that _his_ partner was fraternizing with another person who already happened to have a partner of his own! The Mudblood was as thick as ever – did she not see in that Finch-Fletchley and his dastardly plans? Just because the Hufflepuff showed remote interest in her did not mean that she had to turn into goo whenever he talked to her; so apparently, Granger _did_ like him a lot!

Not that he cared the least.

Draco did not care whom Granger fancied or dated; all he cared about was that she was unknowingly helping Finch-Fletchley and his partner get a grade which could possibly (but God forbid) be equally compared to their own! And Draco did not like having to share his – alright, _their_ – glory! He and Granger were top of their class! Therefore, no one else was allowed to share such an honorable spot other than the two of them! That was why they were the Head Boy and Girl, for crying out loud.

Stupid, she was.

She really _was_ a Gryffindor.

This was why he was here, right now, in their cozy Common Room, sitting anxiously and irritably on the couch, waiting for Granger to come. Dinner had finished earlier and she was bound to come up at any time.

Which, finally, she did, ten minutes later, all sorts of Arithmancy materials in her hands and an apparent satisfied smile plastered on her face. She walked in to find Draco there, staring – or rather, _glaring_ at her.

"What's with the sour look, Malfoy?"

"What in bloody hell were you doing with Finch-Fletchley at the library?" He spat the Hufflepuff's name like venom.

A bright blush crossed her features and she coughed awkwardly. "What? We were researching!" Her eyes narrowed. Suspiciously, she added, "And have you been _following_ me?"

"Of course not! Why in the world would I waste my time on you?"

"I thought so." She set the things down on a nearby study desk and placed her hands on her hips. "And why do you care anyway?"

"Because you're _fraternizing_ with the _enemy_."

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him strangely. "Have you gone crazy? Justin's not the enemy."

"You're letting him use you to his advantage! You're helping him out in Arithmancy!"

"And he's helping me out too, Malfoy," she replied exasperatedly. "Honestly, what's gotten into you? I would have helped out any other person if they needed it. You're going against rule number one."

Draco stood up. "What?" he asked blankly.

"Rule number one clearly states that it is imperative that we mind each other's business. You, sir, are going against stated rule."

"I am not going _against_ it – this business concerns _me_ – because this is _our_ grade too. I have every right to butt in this business of yours."

"What _about _our grade?"

"Helping that git while we ourselves aren't done with our own paper decreases our chances of getting the highest score in class."

"I'm not in the mood to bicker, Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, frustrated. "Would it help if we let go of this and I feed you some cookies?"

Draco scoffed. Cookies? She thought that _cookies_ would make them calm down?

Right.

But off she went to her room, only to come out later with the usual container of the sugar-free cookies Draco appeared to enjoy every other night. Hermione sat down on the carpeted floor and opened the container, releasing the sweet, baked scent of the pastry. "Sit," she commanded, but when he wouldn't budge, she pulled him down right beside her and launched a piece in his mouth when he opened to protest.

Draco moodily finished his cookie and glared at her menacingly. She wasn't at all fazed by it at all; then again, he bet that she was used to his mean looks now, seeing as they were living in the same quarters together. Instead, what she did was to smile all too sweetly and brush away the crumbs that were left near his mouth.

"Thank Merlin that shut you up," she grinned as she placed yet another piece in his mouth. "Oh, and I believe I didn't thank you earlier for your gift. I used it today in the library and it's lovely."

"I told you it wasn't jinxed," he replied, his cheeks still a bit pink from when she touched her face for the second time. He sat a bit straighter and turned to look at her. "You'd better make sure that our paper'll be perfect."

"Of course it will," Hermione replied. "That's why you're here to help me."

**&&&&&&&&**

October came, the very month that autumn was especially evident in the way that all leaves of all kinds were now in varied shades of red and orange and were all scattered and littered upon the earth in a most artful way. The air was a lovely chill, a crisp cold, all too perfect for the season of Quidditch to finally begin.

Up in the castle one afternoon, Professor Vector distributed the papers his students worked on in the last month. In a proud voice, he announced that the two Heads had, once again, bagged the highest score in class, coming first before Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan.

Once Hermione took hold of their masterpiece (she resolved to call it that when they had finally finished it one night last September), she squealed in apparent joy and took Draco by surprise when she threw her arms around him in happiness. He was all too startled to do anything and was aware that they were in class; a Gryffindor did not have any physical contact with a Slytherin, unless they were engaging in a brawl in public.

Thankfully enough, she finally let go and appeared not to be perturbed about what she had done; perhaps, he deduced, she did it so often with Potter and Weasley that hugs no longer really mattered. Draco, however, was left feeling a bit too warm and empty. He briefly wondered if he'd be receiving more of her hugs in the future.

"I told you, Malfoy," she said in a proud voice, "And we did it again! We got a 125!"

"Yes, well, that's all thanks to me," he pointed out smugly.

"Well, at least half of it," she replied bitingly.

"Oh, please –"

"If it weren't for _me_, we wouldn't –"

"Stop _flattering _yourself, Granger –"

"I'm just stating facts –"

They filed out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang to end the day, with the two Heads still bickering quite loudly as usual along the way to the Great Hall. It was a common sight for all to see the two lash out at each other before, during and after classes they had together, that most students thought this normal and rather uninteresting. Normally, no one intervened, and they themselves stopped squabbling on their own. Right now, only when someone tapped Hermione on the shoulder did the two stop to turn around to see who it was.

To Hermione's glee and to Draco's irritation, it was Justin Finch-Fletchley yet again, holding up their own paper which had a score of 100. "And it's all thanks to you, Hermione," he said, his hand, Draco noticed, latched onto her arm. This annoying prick had a habit of showing up around Granger more than usual nowadays, and if it did not bother her at all, it certainly bothered him.

"Oh, no, I'm sure you and Ernie did splendidly," she replied, smiling a bit too widely, and – was that a dreamy expression on the face of Hermione Granger?

Draco rolled his eyes. They weren't even _paying attention _to his very presence! He did not like to be ignored and he did not like the Hufflepuff talking too long with _his_ partner. Weren't they supposed to be going along their way now?

"Granger, I'm going back up to the Common Room. Will you be coming along?" he asked unpleasantly, but he did not get a reply. The Gryffindor was still too busy talking to Finch-Fletchley.

"Hey, I'm on my way to the Great Hall, Hermione. Want to come?" Justin flashed an eager smile at Hermione, who, Draco noted with distaste, blushed. _Ugh. _Really, now. She actually _liked_ this boy? She did _not_ have any taste at all.

"Sure, I'd _love_ to," she replied, nodding vigorously at him. Turning towards Draco, she shoved her bag at him rather hardly. "You wouldn't mind bringing my bag, upstairs, now do you, Malfoy?"

"Wha –"

"Thanks, I'll see you later!" And she practically skipped along the way to the Great Hall with the Hufflepuff skipping right beside her. He watched as they disappeared round the corner, leaving him outside the Arithmancy classroom, looking like a right idiot with two bags of books hanging on each of his shoulder. His lip curled; he glared down at Hermione's bag, which he realized was far heavier than his own, and was tempted to discard it right on the stone floor.

Hermione just _left_ him!

People did not _leave_ Draco Malfoy – he left them!

And to think that it was a Mudblood and a Gryffindor who had the nerve to do so. Bloody girl, he hated her now more than ever. And to abandon his company to spend her time with – with a Mudblood like her? Well, he should have expected it after all. Birds of a feather flock together.

_Well, who said I wanted her company anyway? _Draco trudged towards their Common Room to leave their bags behind for dinner. He felt like a house elf now; he was not one to carry other people's burdens (in this case Hermione's bag which seemed to be full of hard, heavy rocks) but here he was, Draco Malfoy, prominent member of an ancient Pureblood family, lugging the belongings of a Muggleborn witch. Oh, the shame.

He'd have to deal with her later.

**&&&&&&&&**

"Oh, he's absolutely brilliant, Gin!" Hermione cried happily, her amber eyes lighting up quite dramatically. "I mean, he's smart, he's funny, he's absolutely charming – oh, he's _wonderful_."

The youngest Weasley turned to look at her as she applied a bit of face powder. "Ah, yes," Ginny murmured, "Justin Finch-Fletchley is quite a catch. But so is Draco Malfoy."

The euphoria and giddiness of Hermione quickly drained the moment the redhead girl mentioned the name of her partner. "What about Malfoy?" she asked off-handedly, waving her hand as if to keep the topic of the Slytherin away from her current joy.

"In spite of the fact that he is rude, evil, malicious, mean, and oh all the horrible things that one could possibly throw at him, I, and the rest of the female population of the school, would like to consider him a great catch. Look, Hermione, to put things simply, Malfoy is – well, gorgeous. You could ask either Parvati or Lavender to confirm such a truth."

Hermione laughed. Malfoy? Gorgeous? The desire of every girl in Hogwarts? If they only knew how it was to be with him every single day. "Interesting how I don't seem to see such an attribute whenever I'm with him, Ginny," Hermione replied sardonically.

"Well, that's because you're too busy verbally fighting with him." Ginny sighed. "If you would only take a moment to observe him."

Hermione glanced at her reflection in the mirror and perceived an image of the Slytherin Head Boy in her mind. Well, she had to admit, he had fair hair she'd kill to have. Silky strands of gold one would ache to have her hands run through. And then there were his eyes, orbs of silver which reminded Hermione of cool, rainy days and which had the unusual power of calming her. And then he undoubtedly had such a good – if not _great_ – body. Considering the countless times she had seen him coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel, she could testify to such a thing.

But then, she could not forget that he had a habit of raking through those fine tendrils of blonde hair whenever he was feeling smug about her; she could always be sure that those pools of gray that were his eyes were always filled with less than pleasant emotions; and with his body – well, Hermione could not think anything bad about the body.

Still, despite the fact that Draco Malfoy indeed was not 'horribly deformed' (she would refuse to call him handsome because handsome connoted Justin Finch-Fletchley), that did not get rid of his more terrible traits. Hermione's eyes twinkled with laughter, recalling his many queer habits and quirks she had noticed in a month and was sure no one else knew other than the people who lived in close parameters with him. Such habits included a great obsessive-compulsive trait much worse than her, or a strange tendency to clean when he was reviewing himself for a test, or a practice of humming to himself while completing an essay. Oh, and of course, he seemed to be at a loss whenever he realized that there would be nothing to munch on whenever they were studying at night – a custom, Hermione was proud to say, which Draco got from her.

Still, though, Hermione laughed. Beneath that cool, attractive demeanor, she could still see the scrawny little ferret boy who lived to torture their lives when they were younger. Draco Malfoy, she thought, was somewhat like Harry and Ron to her – a boy whom she had grown up with, only the difference was that she hated him and he hated her.

"Whatever, Ginny," she said, still chuckling to herself. "I still find Justin a much better catch than a hundred catches of Malfoy."

**&&&&&&&&**

Fridays meant Quidditch training for the Slytherin team. Aside from being Head Boy, Draco found himself the Captain of his House team as well, an honor he was glad to have, a position Professor Snape had proudly given him at the end of his sixth year. First game of the year would be with Ravenclaw and he would make sure that they won it – then again, Ravenclaw was an easy team to beat; it was the other two which were tougher.

Fridays also meant patrols. That meant that right after practice he'd have to rush down to the Great Hall for dinner, then change quickly to his school robes and find Granger. Such a routine was quite difficult to do, and that was why he found his Friday nights the most exhausting of all. Tonight was no exception; as he surveyed his players training in the air, he briefly wondered if he could ask Granger if she could do it alone tonight. But that would not be a good idea – he remembered the last time she went alone on patrol. She had gotten herself unconscious!

As soon as eight o'clock struck, he blew a silver whistle and called the night off. His teammates bid him goodbye and he flicked his wand to keep away the Quidditch balls. As soon as they were kept, he sighed, looked up at the night sky and wished that he could fly a bit longer. But it wouldn't be nice to keep his counterpart waiting, now, would it? Then again, with a nasty, sly smile, Draco remembered that he wasn't nice at all. Granger could wait – the night was calling him.

And so he kicked off into the air, zooming about the Quidditch Pitch in ecstasy that he only felt whenever he was on his Nimbus 2001, and howled into the night as he skidded here and there, a broad grin on his face.

"Malfoy!"

A yell from below halted him to a stop and he looked down to see a miniscule Hermione Granger glaring back up at him. He scowled, rolling his eyes. Drat, she had come for him, but he would not yet come down – he didn't want to. And besides, how in the world would she be able to stop him?

"So you've found me, Granger," he called down, swooping a bit nearer to the ground.

"Do you know what time it is, Malfoy?" came the annoyed tone of the Head Girl. "It's eight thirty! According to our altered schedule, we were supposed to be patrolling half an hour ago! Or did that just casually slip your mind?"

"Yes, it did, Granger. Flying does that to people, sometimes."

"Well, get down here this instant because I'm getting cold and I'd like to finish the patrol so that I could do some reading!"

"No." Draco flew past her and then right above her. "I don't want to – not yet."

"What do you mean, _not yet_?"

"I'd like to fly a bit more," he replied, "You're free to join me if you want – it's great fun, Granger."

"No! Will you please come down?"

"No? Why, Granger, afraid?" He cackled.

_Silence._

Draco swooped down to the ground and tilted his head, looking curiously at the girl in front of him.

_Ah, yes_.

Now he remembered. Hermione Granger, since the first Flying Lesson in their first year, was terrified of flying. Watching her shift her feet uncomfortably and her cheeks turning a bit red confirmed such fear.

"I can't believe you're afraid of flying, Granger," he remarked, surprised, "And you have two best friends who are on the Quidditch team! Don't tell me they never took you flying."

She looked up and smiled sheepishly. "Well – that's just right. They know how scared I am of flying, that's why they never bothered to do so."

"That's not a good enough reason not to take you." He looked blankly at her. "_I'll _take you then. _Then_ you'll realize that you love it."

A second later he was pulling her by the hand, with her flailing her free hand and resisting uselessly against his pull. "_No_, Malfoy – no – please let me go – we have to do our patrols or else it'll be too late to do so – Malfoy –"she pleaded, "I – I have my wand! Let me go – or – I'll hex you –"

But Draco glanced at her flatly and continued on towards the middle of the field. "Honestly, Granger, you really should conquer your fears," he muttered, "and now I sound so unlike me because I said that."

"Alright, you could fly as much as you want! Just leave me out of it!" She shrieked, but still his hold on her did not loosen at all. "Let me go, Malfoy, let me –"

But off they went up into the night, with Hermione shrieking and yelling right behind him, her arms latched tightly around his waist, clinging onto him for dear life. Draco grinned and sped over the Forbidden Forest, then around the pinnacles and towers of the school, and he relished in the cool of the evening air, and somehow hoped that what he felt could also be felt by the girl who was still screaming.

And finally he turned round back to the Quidditch Pitch, satisfied with his flying for the evening and safely landed on the ground. "See, Granger, it wasn't that awful, now was it?" he said, smirking as he gathered his broomstick and turned round to face her. "You were stupid thinking it was stupid –"

But Hermione Granger was now _crying._

Sobbing.

Perhaps she was more terrified of flying than she was of dying.

She was like a little girl, a lost child who was in search of her parents but couldn't at all find them, and Draco did not know how to handle a crying girl. He was at a loss on what to do, wondering whether or not he should scold her to stop crying or console her. Tentatively he drew close to the Head Girl, and in a cautious voice asked, "Er – Granger?"

And suddenly she was beating her fists weakly against his chest, her beautiful brown eyes moist and bright, tears running down her face in fear and panic. "I told you not to bring me along! I _told_ you – you don't know how terrified I am of brooms and flying!" She sobbed, "This is why Harry and Ron never brought me with them! Because they know and care – you didn't – you just wanted to see me scream – I hate you, Malfoy –"

What was Draco to do now? _He honestly didn't know!_ So flying was the Gryffindor Know-It-All's greatest phobia. At least he knew now, didn't he? "Look, I didn't know you were that scared, Granger," he replied cautiously, "I really didn't know – and – I'm sorry then, Granger – really!"

And now she was sobbing against his chest, and he had no choice but to wrap a reluctant arm around her, patting her awkwardly on the head, telling her that she was no longer flying in the air and that she was alive right now and was very much safe around… well, him. There went the unusual warmth spreading through his entire body, the tender feeling he only experienced whenever Hermione was in contact with him. _Damn it, _He thought angrily, now was not the time to dwell on such unimportant things!

Her sobs softened into light sniffles and he looked down at her face, tear-streaked, and yet, to Draco, very much striking. "I suppose you've done all the crying that you could do?" he asked, wearing once more his infamous smirk, and he was pleased enough to see her smiling slightly. He lightly patted her on the head and said, "There, there, Mudblood, you're alright now."

It was strange how feelings of protectiveness for this girl suddenly jolted in him, and briefly Draco wondered if this was what Weasley and Potter felt whenever they were on their crazy adventures with Hermione; after all, she was the only girl in their trio, and thus physically and emotionally the weakest.

Instead of a light hug or some sort of appreciation for his consoling her, however, Hermione stomped angrily on his foot and pinched his ear. Draco yelped as Hermione almost twisted his ear in anger. "Don't you ever do that again, you little ferret!" She yelled, "Or I will do something so – so – oh, I don't know!"

And with one more painful stomp on his foot, Hermione wiped her tears away and began to trod away back to the castle. "Come on, Malfoy!" she shouted, "We have patrolling to do!"

Draco nursed his ear gently and glared at the retreating figure of Hermione. So much for those feelings of protectiveness. He wanted nothing more than to pull her hair or at the most bring her back up into the air and hear her helpless screams.

**&&&&&&&&**

**Author's note: **Sorry for the late update. I had to work on my entry for the dmhgficexchange. :P I'm done with it at least, so I could now focus on this one. I sure hope you liked this chapter. Please review – it'll certainly make my day. And thank you so much to those who had reviewed last time!


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

**&&&&&&&&**

**The Revised Set of House Rules **

**Agreed Upon By Both Parties (i.e., Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy)**

1.It is most encouraged to mind each other's business, unless said business involves the other counterpart in many ways more than one.  
2.The schedule agreed upon by both parties (involving time usage of bathroom, etc.) must be strictly followed to maintain peace and order in the living quarters.  
3.The Common Room must be kept clean at all times.  
4.Access to private bedrooms is not given to people other than the resident of the bedroom.  
5.Snacks must be provided at all times during study hours, preferably if both parties are working through the long hours of the night.  
6.Flying must be tolerated.  
7.No one, apart from the Heads, is allowed to enter the Head's living quarters.  
8.Bathroom usage should not exceed an hour and a half. Please bear in mind to keep it clean for the benefit of the next user.  
9.If one is tardy for any tasks related to Head Students' duties and if one fails to follow the rules, there will be consequences. Consequences will be dealt and handled by the Head who had to put up with the other Head's lack of responsibility.  
10.No attractions. _Please. _Spare me.

**&&&&&&&&**

Draco scrutinized the parchment Hermione had tacked up on their bulletin board – apparently, the Head Girl was quite _busy_ over the weekend. Scrunching up his nose in irritation, he turned round to look at her.

"You made a new set of rules?" he said slowly.

Hermione looked up from her book and replied, "Hmm."

"Without my consent?"

"Didn't really need your consent, did I?" she answered coolly, which made Draco's blood boiling – he had to restrain himself from pulling off his hair in frustration.

"What the bloody hell was wrong with the rules _we_ had?" he exclaimed.

"Relax, Malfoy," Hermione said, standing up and walking towards him, "It's just a revision – and about three new rules. Besides, this one will be official. The old set of rules were, in some words, rather messy."

"_Messy?"_ Draco huffed in indignation. For _her_ information, he had thought quite hard about those rules during the Welcoming Feast – he'd even missed their loony Headmaster's speech just so that he could complete the list! And now she was going to tell him that it was _messy_? "I wrote down those rules in the most orderly way I could possibly do –"

"You wrote them on a scrap piece of parchment, Malfoy," Hermione told him flatly. "And then later on, chucked it into the fire. How in the world can you consider that the old set of rules could be official?"

Draco glared at her. "And you suppose that _this_ –" pointing rudely at the neatly pinned parchment with Hermione's handwriting – "is official? _Agreed by both parties_, my arse! You didn't even tell me you were revising our rules last weekend –"

Hermione shrugged, throwing her hands up in the air in impatience. "What is the big deal, Malfoy? They're practically the same anyway – just a bit of fixing here and there –"

"Flying must be tolerated!" He threw her a terribly aggravated look. "Since when has flying been related to Head duties?"

"You should have noticed that your training gets in the way of our nightly patrolling –"

"—don't _care_ about the bloody patrols—"

"—therefore I think it's just right that you reasonably lessen your—"

"—think you just included the bloody rule out of spite, Granger—"

"_Excuse_ me?" Hermione huffed. "What makes you think _that_?"

Draco crossed his arms. "This is just your petty revenge for that time I made you fly with me."

"I am not that childish!" she protested. _How ironic_, Draco thought when right after her protest, she stomped her foot on the floor rather immaturely. Hermione's cheeks were flushed red. "You have training every Wednesdays and Fridays now and on those days make you late for patrolling—"

"Wednesdays are handled by the bloody Hufflepuffs, Granger," he retorted, "And Friday is only one day of the week – you _practically_ have me every night anyway."

Somehow, that didn't come out right.

"You know what I mean." Strangely, the room felt quite warmer.

Hermione coughed impatiently. Apparently she was too bloody dense to get the implications of Draco's words. "Oh, fine then – we'll have to change that later on…" she grabbed her book bag from the sofa and adjusted her hair. "It's seven fifteen, let's go."

"Where?"

"To breakfast, of course!" Hermione rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue in irritation. Seeing as Draco was not making any motion to budge from his spot, Hermione took his bag as well and went over to him. "I'll discuss the rules with you on the way." Taking him by the arm, she led him out of the Heads Common Room.

**&&&&&&&&**

"Here's a copy of the rules for you." Hermione gave him a small piece of parchment. "It's laminated so that it won't rip, get crumpled or anything. You can use it as a bookmark. Handy, isn't it?"

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Pathetic, Granger. You really are pathetic." But he took it anyway and scanned through the rules. "What's this about consequences?"

"Simply means that if you're late or acting irresponsibly, I get to make you do whatever I want in one whole day. The rule's only effective if it directly affects our tasks as Heads and activities as class partners."

"What sort of consequences?"

"Oh, you know," she shrugged, "like walking around school in a pink tutu and prancing about blowing fairy dust on everyone. Or placing pink bows on your _beautiful _hair."

"_Lovely_, I'd relish in seeing you do exactly what you just said." Draco slyly smiled. Now _this_ rule was pretty interesting—if he got on the right end of it. Consequences indeed. It sounded… _fun_. Especially if Granger was on the wrong end and he had the power to make her do anything he wanted.

Imagine—a whole day having her to serve him hand and foot! It was a lovely dream he was going to add to his goals this year. And he particularly liked what Hermione said as an example: if he was careful enough, _she_ would be the one wearing that pink tutu and _she'd_ be the one bestowing blessings on everyone else! Hell, if that actually happened, he was going to have to ask his mother to send him their wizarding camera… or perhaps he'd just have to pay that creepy Colin Creevey from Gryffindor.

"Hmm," he murmured, tucking the laminated parchment in his robe pocket, "Your revision wasn't all that bad, Granger—well, except for that ruddy rule on flying."

"I told you," Hermione replied a-matter-of-factly, "They aren't so bad, are they?"

"No, not at all. In fact, they could benefit me—I'd have guaranteed snacks every night and I get to make you do whatever I want." He grinned cheekily at her.

She, in turn, rolled her eyes and smirked. "Please, Malfoy, you should know by now that _I_ am never late. You, on the other hand, always _are_."

"People can change, Granger," he replied, "People can change. Starting today, I will always be punctual."

Hermione snorted. "Sure—you're capable of that, what with your snogging schedule, Quidditch, bumming around time—"

"I do not _bum_ around—"

Upon entering the Great Hall, the Head Boy and the Head Girl were still bickering. Hermione was now laughing and Draco was—in some bizarre way—laughing with her. Not, of course, because of the same reasons; Hermione was laughing _at_ Draco and Draco was simply picturing the embarrassment he would cause her in his head, which was, to him entirely entertaining that he was already laughing loudly… albeit evilly.

"You laugh strangely, Malfoy," Hermione suddenly muttered, giving him an odd look. "It's scary."

He stopped laughing. Draco bore an affronted expression. He sounded _scary_ when he _laughed_? Why, that couldn't possibly be! All the other girls thought the sound of his laughter was melody, beautiful, tinkling _music_ in their ears—why, sometimes, they even found it _sexy_; his own mother proclaimed that his laughter sounded the way someone very much full of merriment should perfectly sound. Apparently, Hermione Granger was quite deaf. He did not sound scary. What did she know?

Instead, he simply bit back, "Well, you laugh like a chipmunk, Granger."

_That_ made her gasp in indignation. She glared at him and then—

"I'll see you at Arithmancy, Malfoy." And before she departed, she dug her heel into his expensive black shoes, which made him yelp in pain and, as a reaction, made him pull at the back of her robes just as she turned away from him in an attempt to make her trip. Instead though, she fell back against him with a shriek and both of them crashed onto the floor.

Hermione was literally on top of him and Draco was sprawled right under her and was, unfortunately, suffocating because of the great bush of curls she called hair. Unknowingly he brought both his hands through her hair—_How soft, _he thought absent-mindedly—and pushed it away from his face. Then, he found his way to her shoulders and forced her to get up.

"Will you get off me, Granger!" He said in a muffled tone. His toe was still aching and he desperately needed to breathe—not because of her hair now, mind you, but because if Hermione did not get off any sooner, he was going to get quite addicted to the scent of her. He realized she smelled… lovely. She was like a whiff of strawberries.

And no, bloody hell, he did not just _think_ of that.

Sooner or later, Hermione scrambled up to her feet—Draco suddenly missed her lying on top of him and he didn't really want to know why—and dusted her robes while glowering hatefully at him. "You're such a child, Malfoy," she hissed, but even then, she immediately offered her hand to help him up and he took it, regaining his composure and doing his best to rid his nose of her strawberry scent.

"Your fault, Granger," he snapped, "I'll see you later." He really had to get away from her now—in a course of five minutes from the Common Room to the Great Hall, his irritation with her changed into something _weird_. Thanks to that awfully embarrassing accident of crashing down to the floor with her, Draco now knew how soft her hair was and how nice she smelled up close.

"See you." She grunted.

And they pushed open the huge doors of the Great Hall and parted ways.

**&&&&&&&&**

Draco was distracted today.

And Pansy wanted to know why.

But of course, he wasn't going to tell her anything. He never told her _anything_ nowadays anyway, and she was, as his future spouse, very much pained. She still very much remembered the first trip of the year to Hogsmeade when Draco bought that stupid quill for an anonymous person.

Even now, he wasn't paying attention to his food, and was absent-mindedly buttering an already buttered-enough slice of bread. He was obviously deep in thought about something—or Pansy suspected, _someone_—and she wanted to divert all his attention to _her_.

"Draco," she cooed, accidentally-on-purpose absent-mindedly placing her perfectly manicured hand on his arm, "whatever is the matter?"

As expected, he didn't answer. Pansy screwed her nose up in an ugly way.

Then she tried stroking his arm, drawing imaginary circles onto his skin, hoping that that would snap him back to reality. "Draco?"

And indeed, his gray eyes snapped up to look at her. "Pansy," he began, "I have a question to ask and you'd better answer it truthfully."

She gleefully nodded her head and made her hand travel upwards towards his shoulder in the most seductive way possible. "Yes, what is it?"

Perhaps he was going to ask her on a date on the next Hogsmeade visit! Or maybe he was going to ask her to be his official girlfriend—maybe even better; he might want to ask her to marry him!

…But what came instead deflated and annoyed her.

"Does my laugh sound _scary_?"

She had to ask him to repeat his question, which he did accordingly.

"That's your question?" she blankly replied. "The one I have to answer truthfully to?"

He nodded. "Well, does it?"

Always about him, wasn't it?

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just answer the bloody question, Pans!"

She scrutinized him strangely. "Well, I can't possibly give you a proper answer—I mean, _you_ don't laugh at all."

He seemed to take that as offense.

"Well, it's true, Draco," she reasoned. It _was_ true—Draco Malfoy never laughed. He snickered, chuckled, cackled, snorted, hooted but he never _laughed_. Not in the way a normal person was to do so, anyway.

"I do too laugh," he snapped, "And for your information, other girls find it sexy."

"What other girls?" Pansy demanded.

Draco waved his hand impatiently. "Answer my question, Pansy: does my laughter sound so frightening?"

Pansy sighed silently and smiled ever so sweetly at him. Resuming the play of her hands, she replied, in a sultry way, "Of course not, Draco—the sound of your laughter gets me so… _excited_."

That seemed to please him a lot that his mood eventually got brighter.

**&&&&&&&&**

Rule number nine came into effect on the twenty-fifth of October. Draco Malfoy was the first to face the consequences due to—er—some pathetically low reasons, but of course, if one mentioned that to him, he'd protest, saying that his reasons were perfectly sensible, and then you'd hear the Head Girl in the background, snorting at whatever he said and saying that they were stupid reasons, completely expected of someone like Draco.

His reason was this: on one particularly important meeting with the House Prefects in preparation for the Halloween Feast, Draco had not showed up at all, therefore leaving Hermione to deal with the meeting—not that she minded though, she'd admit, because for once, the usual presence of their bickering was lacking and as an effect, the meeting had gone smoothly.

When confronted by the Head Girl back at the Common Room, the Head Boy grinned sheepishly at her—something very un-Malfoy-like, because Malfoys did not grin _sheepishly_—and had the grace to blush, saying that he had been out with Girl Fling #31 and had forgotten that they had that 'stupid meeting with the bloody Prefects'.

Hermione would not listen to him and did not give him the benefit of the doubt; merely, she looked at him, smirked, and told him to be prepared for anything on the following Saturday. She would not tell him what she wanted him to do for her, explaining that it would ruin anything that she had planned—Draco did not think much of it, though, because Hermione, the ever pristine member of Gryffindor, would never do anything quite harmful or extremely embarrassing to him.

And so now, The Saturday two days before Halloween, Draco woke up at around nine am, dragged himself out of his bed covers, and proceeded to the bathroom. Hermione, apparently, had already gone because it certainly smelled like her—strawberries—and so he took his time in everything. Sleep was still in his eyes and he leant down the sink to wash his face and brush his teeth. He took a towel, dried his face and blearily looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He smiled drowsily, thinking how handsome he still looked in the morning, and went on to take a shower, when—

His eyes widened in realization and he dashed to look at himself once again. At the sight of his reflection, he let out a helpless whimper.

His hair. Was. Black.

His hair. Was. **Black**.

_HIS HAIR WAS BLACK!_

Gone were the beautiful light blonde locks, only to be replaced by dreadful, horrible, ugly black tresses. Oh, Good Merlin. He had the hair of Harry Bloody Potter! Oh, dear—his hair was already looking as untidy as the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived! Panicking rather loudly, Draco tore off his clothes and jumped into the shower, turned the tap to the most extreme and prayed that it was just some dye that could be washed out without magic.

But it was to no avail—his hair was still as black and Draco, in desperation, rushed back into his room, put on some clothes, grabbed his wand and went back to the bathroom. He pointed his wand at his hair and muttered, "_Finite Incantatem_."

It didn't work.

Running a pale hand through his ugly black hair, he sauntered out of the bathroom, then out of the Common Room and made his way to the Great Hall.

Hermione Granger was going to be murdered.

**&&&&&&&&**

As if a plague washed over the students that morning, everyone suddenly gasped in unison and then held their breaths in silence. Hermione was reading a book whilst eating her cereal and she looked up uninterestedly, wondering what the commotion could be about. It was only when she chanced upon a familiar looking Slytherin did she almost choke and laugh.

Draco looked angry. _Very_ angry. Obviously, he had finally noticed the ebony locks she had given him when he was still fast asleep, and he wasn't very pleased. Oh, no—he was far from it. In fact, Draco was writhing in anger. He purposefully glanced towards the direction of the Gryffindor table, found her, and started walking towards her.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR?" he roared, and everyone there looked at the two of them curiously.

Ron began to howl in laughter. Glancing at Hermione, he said in a very proud voice, "_You_ did this to him?" Turning towards Harry, he said, "Bloody hell, Harry, after all these years, we thought he hated you—he was part of your fan club after all!"

Harry shook in laughter as he joined him. "Merlin's sake, Malfoy, if you idolized me that much, you shouldn't have overdone it—I mean, no need to imitate my hair—"

Draco looked as if he was about to jump them, but, perfectly knowing that he was Head Boy, he instead, restrained his anger, and satisfied himself with glowering at the third member of the bloody trio. "What the bloody hell did I do to you?" he bawled, reaching up to grab a few strands of his newly colored hair.

Hermione smiled cheekily. "That's the beginning of your consequences, Malfoy," she replied.

"WHAT?"

"You're to have your consequences today, remember?" Hermione explained calmly. "It's not so bad, is it?"

A vein twitched. He wore an ugly scowl. He wanted to lunge at her. But he couldn't do anything because of the stupid rule. _Bloody brilliant. _

Hermione continued to smile. "Now run along and come back when I say so," she said, "I'll be needing you later."

And now she was ordering him around! The ruddy shame he was going to have to face when he returned to Slytherin…

Pansy shrieked in horror when he sat down in front of her. All the other girls at the table joined her and now they were all crying—they were actually _sobbing_. Pansy tentatively reached out to touch his blonde—no, _black_—hair and cried, "What did you _do_ to your _hair_?"

"Ask the bloody Mudblood, why don't you?"

And the wailing continued.

**&&&&&&&&**

"See, it's real easy—do it like this—"

"This is something girls do, Granger—do I look like a _girl_ to you!"

"Now that I think about it, yes—yes, you do."

"Shut up—but if I were one, I'd definitely be hotter than you—"

"Stop being a prat, will you? And concentrate on your knitting!"

"Sssshhhh!"

Draco's cheeks fairly turned pink. If anyone saw him knitting stupid scarves and hats for the bloody house elves of the castle, he'd have to kill Hermione first and then curse himself with Avada Kedavra. Why, oh why did she have to drag him along outside to the castle grounds to do this with her! His reputation was tarnished as of today: he'd lost his trademark blonde hair (oh, how he missed his fair locks!), he had been ordered around by a lowly Mudblood all day – and it was beginning to feel like a _long_ day – and now, he was _knitting_.

And great gods! He was getting much better at it as the hours passed. Up until now, he'd only made hats of a solid color – Hermione was beginning to teach him how to make patterns of diamonds and stripes, and despite the fact that he was beginning to get real skilled at it, he was not proud of his newly found talent.

They'd been sitting out by the lake since lunchtime, and they practically made enough scarves and hats to put up a store and sell them. Hermione grinned proudly at the stacks of miniature clothes they'd been making for the house elves, sighing as she took one and delicately fingered it. Turning towards her knitting partner who, at the moment, was putting the last touches to his first ever patterned scarf, she smiled and said, "Thanks, Malfoy."

Draco paused to look up at her. "For what?"

She blushed and nudged a finger towards the clothes. "For helping me out with this."

"Honestly, Granger, if it weren't for your ability to order me around today, I wouldn't be doing this out of the goodness of my heart." He grinned cheekily. "I'd rather be doing something more worthwhile."

"I know that!" she replied hotly. She sighed irritably. "But still—thank you."

Draco looked at her. She really was a strange girl. Jokingly, he said, "You should thank me; my creations turned out much better than yours, see?" He held up one finished hat and pulled it down just above her ears. Hermione winced good-naturedly and patted it. He somehow thought she looked… cute. Her unkempt curls were sticking out dramatically here and there, her cheeks were just the right kind of pink and she was grinning. And before he knew what he was saying, he blurted out, "You know, you look c—"

Good thing he had sense enough to snap his mouth shut before he could say she looked _cute_. Great Merlin, what would have happened if he did say that? He somehow realized that he was holding his breath for quite a time.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "I look… what?"

"Crazy." He decided to say. "You look crazy." Bloody hell, what was the matter with him?

Hermione scoffed, taking off the hat and throwing it mildly at him. "Well, that's because you made it, Malfoy," she snickered.

"For your information, mine are well done—"

And before long, they were bickering again until dinner.

**&&&&&&&&**

"Hermione!"

She looked around to see who called her name and to her pleasure, it was that one Hufflepuff she was quite smitten with. He caught up with her and Draco, who, Hermione failed to notice, was wearing a very much irritated scowl. Both of the Heads were traipsing up to the Heads' Quarters to keep away the knitting they've been doing all afternoon and in spite of the fact that Hermione did have quite a good time with Draco, it was still so much better to see Justin after a long day of work.

"Hello, Justin," she greeted enthusiastically, feeling so excited at the sight of him that the hats in her hands nearly fell to the floor.

He grinned good-naturedly at her and nodded indifferently at her companion, who, in turn, chose to ignore him and walk on. After all, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff did not deserve the attentions of Draco Malfoy—he already gave much of his attentions to his partner, a Muggleborn Gryffindor Know-It-All. Like right now—Draco was scowling pointedly at her, obviously disgusted by the fact that she was pouring all her affections to someone who readily did not deserve it.

"Where were you all day?" he asked curiously. "Oh, and let me help you with that—" He took the stack of hats into his own arms.

"If you're willing to carry all that, then I suppose you wouldn't mind taking these as well, would you, Finch-Fletchley?" Draco sneered right behind them.

Hermione wrinkled her nose disapprovingly and retorted, "Shut up, Malfoy." To Justin she said, "Don't mind him—he's just being a git as usual."

"I heard you turned his hair black," he commented, and taking a glance at the Head Boy, he laughed, "All of Hufflepuff commends you, Hermione, for a job well done."

Hermione blushed. Inwardly, Draco retched, feeling rather sickened that he had to see two Mudbloods _flirting_ with each other!

"Oh, bloody hell, will you two move it!" And he shoved through them forcefully, pushing them apart. He rounded the corner and disappeared, leaving Hermione alone with Justin.

"What's with him?" Justin asked.

Hermione waved her hand nonchalantly and replied, "Oh, nothing—he's naturally just like that. I don't even notice it anymore."

"Right. Anyway, isn't there another Hogsmeade visit during the first weekend of November?"

She nodded.

"Want to come with me?" Justin's cheeks turned crimson, looking quite adorable when he blushed like that. Hermione's spirits practically soared that without another thought, she nodded.

"Great!" He beamed, flashing him a great smile that told her he was genuinely overjoyed that she agreed. "Well, then—" And he leaned in to give her a quick, soft peck on the cheek.

Hermione's legs turned to jelly right after that.

**&&&&&&&&**

Draco witnessed her come in through the Portrait Hole with an uncharacteristic goofy smile plastered on her face. She floated to the couch opposite him, dropped the hats she had in her hands and sighed dreamily.

He thought it was pathetically sickening.

And to think all this was caused by a pretty boy Hufflepuff!

"He asked you out on a date?" he asked nonchalantly, looking at his black hair with a small mirror in his hand. His wand was pointed at his hair, and every now and then, small white sparks shot out of it faintly as evidence that he was sort of trying to rid it of its blackness.

"Hmm?" she replied, apparently not listening.

"Brilliant, Granger," he retorted, "To think that our teachers think highly of you. All that it took for you to lose all intelligence is for you to fall flat on your face in love. Now will you please turn my hair back to its own color?"

Hermione shot out of her reverie and stared flatly at him. "It's only nine, Malfoy. I have three more hours to do whatever I want with you."

He grinned slyly, "Oooh, you're quite a vixen—what ever in the world would you want to do with me, Granger?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.

"Alright then—get on with it. What do you want me to do now?"

"Cook me pasta."

"What?"

"Pasta. I'm craving for pasta. Cook me some."

"Are you turning me into a girl, Granger?"

"Cooking's not for girls only. My father cooks when my mother's out, you know."

"That's _your_ father then."

"It's either you cook or I force you into pink dress robes, Malfoy."

Ten minutes later, Head Boy and Head Girl were down at the kitchens, with the Slytherin donned in a frilly pink apron, clashing quite nicely with his untidy black hair, and the Gryffindor seated by the table, her chin resting gently on the palm of her hand. She'd brought her muggle camera with her and every now and then, there'd be a bright flash of light in the room whenever Draco'd turn to look at her and glare.

"When it's my turn to give you consequences, Granger," Draco pronounced as he chopped some mushrooms and tomatoes, "I'll make sure you'll die of embarrassment."

Hermione laughed as she took yet another picture of him. "Come off it, Malfoy, what you've gone through today isn't so bad as you think—at least I didn't make you prance about school in that tutu I promised you."

"And I'm supposed to be thankful?"

"And look at the bright side! You learned a new skill!"

"I don't think knitting will come in handy when I conquer the world, Granger."

"You never know."

"You infuriate me, Granger."

"Glad to know."

Minutes later after more flashing lights and a bit of simmering pasta and cooking sauce, Draco took a wooden spoon, dipped it into the red sauce and placed it near Hermione's mouth. "Taste," he ordered and Hermione licked it slightly. She smacked her lips and looked at him.

"This is your first time cooking, Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"I see." She crossed her arms and called on one of the house elves before turning back to him. "No wonder it tastes so horrible."

"WHAT?"

"See for yourself. Flimsy!"

As a puny house elf ran eagerly towards the Head Girl, Draco tasted his concoction. He made a face right afterwards. It _did_ taste horrible. Turning back to Hermione he growled, "Well, you'll still have to eat all this, Granger—you wanted pasta, you're going to _get_ pasta."

Hermione stared at him… and then laughed. "How can you think you look intimidating when you're wearing _that_?" She turned back to Flimsy the house elf. "Would you mind making us spaghetti, Flimsy? Malfoy's failed to do so, that's why."

"You knew I don't know to cook—" he interjected, but Hermione threw a kitchen towel at him to shut up.

"Yes, ma'am! Right away!" And the house elf began to call on others to help her with the food while the two Heads sat back down across each other. Draco took off his apron, threw it angrily onto the wooden table and glowered at the girl in front of him who was busy taking more shots of everything else in the kitchens, including the house elves and him.

"Will you please put that stupid camera down? I'm this close to cursing it out of your hands, Granger."

The flashes of brilliant white light continued.

And before long, Draco reached across the table, wrenched the camera from Hermione's hands and took a picture of her, to which she angrily objected to. Lowering the camera before he took another picture, he said slyly, "I think it's just fair that we have pictures of you, don't you think?"

Soon enough, they'd finished the wizarding film just in time when Flimsy and her companions set the pasta right before them. Hermione kindly thanked them, grabbed her fork and began to take her share of the pasta. Draco took the rest and in silence they dug in the food with gusto. It was as if they hadn't eaten dinner just two hour ago.

Draco pointed this out, adding that Hermione was ballooning up right before his very eyes, which rightfully earned him a good smack on the head.

When they walked back up to the Common Room, Hermione told him that his consequences were done and he wouldn't have to do any more until his next blunder.

"I will not have any more blunders in the future, Granger," he said smugly, "I can assure you of that."

"We'll see, shall we?"

"And turn my hair back to blonde, will you?"

Hermione crossed her arms and scrutinized him. "I just don't see what you have against dark hair, Malfoy," she said thoughtfully, "It isn't that bad."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, Granger, it reminds me too much of Potty and –now that I think about it, it reminds me of that Finch-Fletchley! And besides, my original hair color suits me more, don't you think?"

A minute or so passed as Hermione continued to scrutinize him. They were standing idly outside a deserted corridor leading up to their quarters, with Hermione leaning her back against the wall with her arms crossed in observation, and Draco standing gracefully before her as if he was her subject. The flames from a nearby torch flickered as a cool breeze passed by them and for one second, the Head Girl looked ethereal. By the way the dark, yellow light seemed to bounce off her bushy curls, it made her look almost pretty. Of course, the moment was gone in an instant, and once more she was the Know-it-All he'd known since they were eleven.

He didn't know how long they were there in that corridor, but it seemed that time stood still… that is, until in some strange way, the next thing he knew was that Hermione was standing pretty close to him that once more he could smell the hint of strawberries from her and could see the flecks of gold dancing in her brown eyes because of the flickering light. Two fingers were threading through his black hair, and she smiled as she looked up at his dark tresses; for a moment, he couldn't breathe, and he didn't know what he could possibly do. What in the world was she getting at?

Then—

"I suppose you're right. It brings out the color of your eyes." She said softly, and Draco was this close to leaning in and at least _doing_ something rather than standing still in an idiotic way; but before he could, she had already taken a step away from him and the next thing he knew, light, fair hair was falling right in front of his eyes and he took a look at his reflection in the window. Sure enough, his hair was the splendid gold it always was, and he sighed in relief, glad to have it back.

Hermione was grinning at him from behind and he took a glance of her. The flames were flickering once more when he did, and there stood that unrecognizable girl once more who looked almost beautiful with the light, honey brown curls and soft, gentle face. She pocketed her wand, pushed off against the wall and said, "Well, come on. Let's go back."

**&&&&&&&&&**

**Author's Note: **Hey there! Here's a chapter before school starts – I sure hope you enjoyed it, despite the fact that it lacks much humor and more fluff. Heh. Thanks to all those who took the time to review; I appreciate your comments very much!


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